NINO NANOBASHVILI */* TOBIAS TEUTENBERG (EDS.)

# DRAWING EDUCATION: WORLDWIDE!

CONTINUITIES – TRANSFERS – MIXTURES

heiUP

# Drawing Education: Worldwide!

Continuities – Transfers – Mixtures

# DRAWING EDUCATION: WORLDWIDE!

CONTINUITIES – TRANSFERS – MIXTURES

Veröffentlichungen des Zentralinstituts für Kunstgeschichte in München, Band 48

Gefördert durch die Richard Stury Stiftung

#### **Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek**

The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the Internet at http://dnb.dnb.de.

 This book is published under the Creative Commons License 4.0 (CC BY-SA 4.0). The cover is subject to the Creative Commons License CC-BY-ND 4.0.

The electronic, open access version of this work is permanently available on Heidelberg University Publishing's website: http://heiup.uni-heidelberg.de. URN: urn:nbn:de:bsz:16-heiup-book-457-6 DOI: https://doi.org/10.17885/heiup.457

Text © 2019 by the authors. Unless stated otherwise, all images are the copyrighted property of their respective institutions.

Cover design: © Philipp Reitsam

ISBN 978-3-947732-32-6 (Hardcover) ISBN 978-3-947732-31-9 (Softcover) ISBN 978-3-947732-30-2 (PDF)

# Table of Contents


#### Transfers


#### Mixtures


# Introduction Towards a Global Perspective on the History of Drawing and Drawing Education

Tobias Teutenberg

Recent years have seen a great deal of work on the history of European drawing education as part of the research project Episteme der Linien (Episteme of Lines) conducted by the Institute for Art History at the Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich in cooperation with the Zentralinstitut für Kunstgeschichte (Central Institute for Art History).1 As analysis of the diverse range of educational and practical material has made apparent, drawing has been well established as a cultural technique in everyday life within European society from the early modern period through to modern times. Along with writing, drawing has played a fundamental role in acquiring, organizing, and communicating knowledge. As a basic epistemic medium, it has played a fundamental role in design and production processes in the fields of art, craft, and industry, not to mention a popular pastime.

But perhaps the most important finding of this phase of the project was the global dimension of the European discourse on drawing and learning to draw. This observation has made it more and more important to raise questions about the significance beyond Europe of this cultural technique that anthropologists of media consider to be among humanity's oldest.2 Also, interest in the instruments and methods used for


#### 2 Tobias Teutenberg

drawing outside Europe has been growing steadily.3 As part of "Drawing Education: Worldwide!"4 – the first conference of the research project Episteme of Lines – international experts met in Munich in October 2016 to discuss indigenous drawing techniques in the Arab, Asian, Latin American, North American, as well as the European regions. Furthermore, the conference placed special emphasis on studying how didactic methods, esthetic norms, and educational institutions for drawing have been transferred.

#### Transcultural drawing education

The term *transculturality* played an important role in the conceptualization of the conference as well as the published proceedings.5 Introduced into cultural studies by Wolfgang Welsch at the end of the 1990s,6 in order to counter the potentially racist misconceptions of the ethnic, religious, and national homogeneity of cultures that has been prevalent at least since the time of Johann Gottfried Herder,7 Monica Juneja and Michael Falser are using the concept of transculturality nowadays to highlight the dynamics of the transformative processes resulting from historic cultural contact.8 Thus, the term not only signifies a trans-European expansion of certain research questions supported by intercultural comparisons;9 rather, the term is used as a heuristic category for examining reciprocity and exchange phenomena that occur during encounters within subjects that have thus far mostly been studied in a Eurocentric manner.

"A number of historical phenomena exist that are, by their very nature, *transcultural.* They can therefore be considered in no other way than transcultural."10 As the


contributions of this volume show, this general statement made by Jürgen Osterhammel can easily be exemplified in connection with the discourse on drawing education that can only be understood within the context of an extensive network of transcultural relations that become apparent at a motivic, methodological, and also institutional level. Surely, the most significant conclusion of this volume is that the history of drawing education can – particularly since at least the era of colonization and globalization – be considered in no other way than as a vibrant marketplace in which ideas, values, and methods of global provenance are continually exchanged.

This assertion is even documented in the European region in the earliest publications on drawing education: printed collections of samples and instructions on drawing from the sixteenth century. While it is beyond dispute that each of these works is fundamentally based on local traditions in drawing and aimed at a regional audience, it is equally obvious that most authors of the first generation of European drawing manuals applied transcultural perspectives to their own guidelines. An example of this is the first printed *Vorlagenbuch* (Sample Book) for artisan illustrators and designers in Europe – the *Kunstbüchlin*, published in 1538 in Strasbourg by Heinrich Vogtherr the Elder.11 Various illustrations in this book of specimens depict headdresses for men and women, among them ancient to contemporary bonnets and hats, but also exotic hats and turbans (*»Fig.1*).

The illustrations of helmets, armor, and weapons that the author recommends to his clients for imitation contain (imaginatively embellished) allusions to objects from foreign lands as well. Vogtherr himself already realized the obvious added value to his publication by these exotic additions:12 artists and artisans who, financially restricted or "burdened with a woman and children," were hardly able to travel could expand their outlook via the outlandish illustrations in the *Kunstbüchlin*. Despite limited mobility, the illustrators in his audience were able to complete assignments for customers who had come into contact with non-European cultures due to trade or war. It is, therefore, hardly surprising that the illustrator and engraver from Nuremberg, Jost Amman, published his sample book (also entitled *Kunstbüchlin*) in 1599 with a subtitle specifically detailing that the collection in addition to members of the clergy, secular people, nobles, and commoners also contained illustrations of "Turkish Emperors" to be copied.13 And last but not least, the presence of exotic animals in the earliest printed textbooks on drawing can be taken as proof of their transcultural focus:14 the manual by the Spaniard


<sup>11</sup> Heilmann, Maria: *Migration* and Beaucamp, Ella: *Kat. 8.1*, in: Heilmann/Nanobashvili/ Pfisterer/Teutenberg 2014, pp. 193–199; 200–202.; Heilmann 2011; Muller 1997, pp. 296–299; Funke 1967, pp. 46–108.

<sup>12</sup> Cf. Heilmann 2011, p. 9.

**Fig.1** Exotic headgear (Vogtherr, *Kunstbüchlin* (1572), Zwickau 1913, [T. 2]).

Juan de Arfe y Villafañe for gold and silversmiths – the *Varia commensuración para la escultura y arquitectura*15 (1585–1587) – contains illustrations of lions, tigers, elephants, rhinoceroses, and porcupines alongside those of local domestic and wild animals, therefore offering insight into the fauna of Asia and Africa alongside that of Europe (*»Fig. 2*).

However, it is not only their extended collection of illustrations that allowed early European drawing manuals to become stages of and actors in the early processes of transcultural networks. In terms of the history of the development of ideas, premises of theories of perception that have held for centuries, along with illustration techniques, can also be associated with non-European cultural areas. The projection of linear perspective, for example, has been an integral part of the curriculum for European drawing education and its printed teaching materials since Jean Cousin's *Livre de Pourtraicture* from 1595 (*»Fig. 3*).16

It is easy to forget that the development of this technique as part of Filippo Brunelleschi's experiments (around 1413) and the following theoretical considerations by Leon Battista Albertis (*De pictura* (1435), lib. I: sections 19–21; lib. II: section 31) were only possible thanks to the discoveries and postulates on optics in the medieval Arab world. In this context, researchers frequently referred to the importance of the writings in *Kitāb al-Manāẓir* (Book of Optics, 1028–1038) by Ibn al-Haytham (Lat.: Alhazen).17 Under the title *De Aspectibus* or *Perspectivae*, the Egyptian's work on optics was available from around the year 1200 in Latin as translated by Gerard of Cremona. It was also available in Italian from the fourteenth century.18 As Martin Kemp stresses, Alberti's mathematization of the perceptual process and, in particular, his hypothesis on the pyramid of vision that formed the essential premise for the development of the *construzione legittima* was directly derived from the Florentine's reading of the Alhazen manuscripts.19 In addition to the study of proportion and the academic debate surrounding art theory terms such as *disegno*, the technique of perspective projection derived from Arab work on optics played an important role in the process of ennoblement of the art of drawing in the early modern period, and thus part of the success story that saw drawing play an integral role in European society of the seventeenth, eighteenth, and nineteenth centuries.

15 Portmann 2014, pp. 125–153; Thürigen, Susanne: *Kat. 4.1*, in: Heilmann/Nanobashvili/Pfisterer/ Teutenberg 2014, pp. 92–94; Bonet Correa 2004; Röhrl 2000, pp. 82–99, 344–346.

17 Translation and comment in English: Al-Haytham 1989. More on the author and text: El-Bizri 2010. On the reception of Alhazens writings in European optics from Bacon to Kepler: Smith 1998; Lindberg 1976/1967. Details regarding the implications for the development of perspective projection: Belting 2008, chap. 3; Edgerton 1976, chap. 5.

19 Kemp 1990, p. 22.

<sup>16</sup> Engelskirchen, Maria: *Kat. 3.1*, in: Heilmann/Nanobashvili/Pfisterer/Teutenberg 2014, pp. 66– 67; Grivel 2013; Fowler 2010.

<sup>18</sup> Vescovini 1998.

**Fig.2** Elephant (Villafañe: *Varia Commensuracion*, Madrid 1773, S. 196).

**Fig.3** Perspective projection (Cousin: *Livre de Pourtraicture,* Paris 1647, S. 37).

No other research subject, however, illustrates the transcultural contingency of drawing and drawing education as much as the cultural history of paper.20 Without the general availability of this material, the flourishing cult of drawing on the Old Continent would have simply lacked any basis. It is again thanks to early contact of the Christian West with the Arab world that this crucial material was available in Europe in the fifteenth century. The craft of producing paper only made its way to Europe relatively late — compared to China where paper tissues already existed in the first century BC,21 and the Arab world where the required knowledge was acquired in the third or fourth century due to Persian links to the outlying areas of Asia. The first European paper mills were in Arab-Moorish Spain (Xàtiva, Córdoba, Toledo) at the end of the eleventh century. Prior to that, the material was exported to Valencia from Cairo and Kairouan on Arab, Genoese, and Amalfitan ships and further transported to Portugal,

<sup>20</sup> On the history of paper in Asia, Arabia, and Early Modern Europe: Tschudin 2007, pp. 81–116. Sandermann 1997, pp. 43–61; 79–86.

<sup>21</sup> Cf. Sandermann 1997, p. 45.

southern France, and Italy. There are also indications that paper was made according to the Arab method in Italy (Amalfi, Genoa, Ancona) around this time, although the sources are not entirely reliable. The first fully mechanized paper factory in Europe was in Fabriano in the thirteenth century. Similar sites could also be found in Liguria, Piedmont, Lombardy, and Tuscany by the late Middle Ages. The goods produced by these factories were delivered to France and Germany via the western Alpine passes and by sea to southern France and Spain. Beginning in Italy, knowledge of the technology soon spread along the regular trade routes, and paper mills soon sprung up all over Europe.22 The rapid spread of the industry allowed paper to replace the older and more difficult to produce parchment as the basic medium for scribes and illustrators, and aided the advancement of the art of drawing in early modern Europe.

#### Sections and subjects

These few aspects may be enough to substantiate the basic hypothesis of this conference volume, namely that a close look at transcultural preconditions and interdependencies throughout historical discourse on drawing education is a rewarding as well as necessary endeavor. It has been shown that the history of drawing education is based on fundamentally transcultural transfer processes. At the same time, the topic itself has consistently led to intercultural relationships being formed as well as maintained. Given this complex web of transference, translation, and blending, it is clear that the aim of this volume cannot be to render an encyclopedically complete presentation of the global history of drawing education, especially considering post-modern criticism of such totalizing projects. Instead, we are offering a compilation of individual studies investigating the locally noticeable global aspects of drawing education, based on regional variations of the historic debate.23

This volume is divided into three parts: the first part is made up of essays on *continuities* within drawing education. In particular, these examine drawing methods and means of transfer that remained stable for extended periods, making it possible for them to spread and be transmitted. In this context, Lamia **Balafrej** takes a look at Persia and the theories developed there on the expressive potential of lines. The author examines a Timurid workshop and sample book with drawings originating between 1490 and 1550 with a view to contemporary source texts on the symbolic value of orthographic clues, determining which moral and ethical statements about the creator critics could make based on drawings or calligraphy. Nino **Nanobashvili** focuses on the evolutionary history and ideological premises of the ABC Method, one of the earliest and yet most

<sup>22</sup> Cf. Weiß 1983, p. 32.

<sup>23</sup> In this context, one publication for this volume was particularly inspiring: Necipoğlu/Payne 2016.

consistent didactic methods in European drawing education. It was already being applied around the year 1500 for drawing exercises in (pre-)academic circles. Earlier printed drawing manuals such as *Il vero modo et ordine per disegnare tutte le parti et membra del corpo humano* 24 by Odoardo Fialetti (1608) were also based predominantly on this principle and led to the ABC Method being passed on as the foundation for lessons on drawing the human body until well into the eighteenth century. Peter **Lukehart**'s essay also focuses on the tradition of drawing in Italy during the early modern era. His central focus is on Giovanni Battista Paggi, one of the most proficient draftsmen around the year 1600. During his years of training in Florence in the late sixteenth century, the Genoese artist acquired abilities in drawing using a mixed technique, using not only a chalk but also ink and wash. Lukehart highlights how important it can be for art historians of the twenty-first century to dedicate time to studying methods of drawing education throughout history. Only by comparing this expert knowledge with the results of modern forensic research is it possible to make reliable attributions. This is followed by Alexander **Klee** taking the first section to the dawn of the modern era with his contribution on drawing education in the Habsburg monarchy. The subject of the essay is the major reform of the state drawing education according to Friedrich Herbart's educational principles, which established new standards for drawing and observation that, in turn, were significant for the emergence of the modern *Formkunst* of the Wiener Werkstätte. Finally, Caroline **Sternberg** and Johannes **Kirschenmann** draw attention to the decisive role institutions play in education and the maintenance of methodological and motivic standards in drawing education using the curriculum of the Munich Academy of Fine Arts as an example. The contribution also sets the scene for the following section by particularly focusing on the many American, Russian, Japanese, Mexican, and Brazilian students who learnt to draw at the Munich Academy after 1900 and then transferred their experience to their home countries.

The second part of the volume contains contributions by authors that address the effects of transcultural *transfer* of methods, practices, and institutions for drawing education. Werner **Kraus** begins with an essay on the Dutch export of the art of drawing to the Indonesian island of Java, where until then, this cultural technique had only seen rudimentary use. The Dutch, therefore, taught Chinese people living on Java how to draw as early as the seventeenth century, in which they were aided by European drawing manuals. Local illustrators then served the colonial rulers as agents of an intercontinental transfer of knowledge, which saw illustrations of Southeast Asian nature and culture make their way to Europe where they shaped the image of Java for centuries. The beginnings of formal drawing education in Russia are then introduced by Elena S. **Stetskevich**. The author identifies the St Petersburg Academy of Sciences as the nucleus of institutional drawing in Russia that began in the first half

<sup>24</sup> Cf. Nanobashvili 2018, chap. III.1.2; Greist, Alexandra: *Kat. 4.1*, in: Heilmann/Nanobashvili/ Pfisterer/Teutenberg 2014, pp. 94–96.

of the eighteenth century. The text reveals the development of this institution as well as its complex structure, and precisely explains the manifold fields of application and education surrounding drawing within the academy. Above all, the author stresses the great importance of German and Italian teachers and drawing textbooks for the development of the curriculum. Institutions and methods of drawing beyond Europe also make up the following contributions in this section: for example, Veronika **Winkler** reconstructs how informal art academies in the Viceroyalty of Peru taught drawing according to European standards with the help of drawing manuals imported from Spain. The author has been able to provide conclusive images to substantiate that the ABC Method for drawing the human body was applied to teach Creoles and indigenous Peruvians. The contribution by Oscar E. **Vázquez** also relates to Latin America. His subject is the establishment of the first art academies in Mexico City and Rio in the eighteenth and nineteenth century, which were closely based on European models. The author shows that the Latin American institutions not only precisely imitated the hierarchical organization and teaching principles of the European institutions but also featured curricula that mainly focused on copying samples, plaster casts, and life models. The esthetic disciplining of the students went so far as to oblige them to ignore the true ethnicity of their models in favor of the Greco-Roman physical ideal. This example clearly emphasizes the exclusionary potential of the historic discourse on drawing, a subject also covered in the essay by Harold **Pearse** on the history of drawing education in Canada, in which he writes amongst other things about the very different curricula for girls and boys. Particularly in his focus on historic drawing manuals and their writers, the author emphasizes that the Canadian system of art education in the nineteenth and twentieth century was the scene of an effective transfer of methods, which saw the integration of didactic concepts from Austria, Japan, and especially Victorian England. In the detailed reference to English standards of drawing and drawing education, Pearse recognizes a phenomenon that he describes as "self-colonization" as unlike Java, Peru or Mexico, Canada was already independent at the time of the standardization of drawing education according to the English model.

The last section of the conference volume is comprised of essays that particularly investigate the processes of the *mixture* of traditional and imported methods and practices. The first three contributions broach the subject of developments in Asia: the essay by **Yamaguchi** Kenji and **Akagi** Rikako is dedicated to the history of drawing education in Japan during the Meiji Era. As with many other aspects of Japanese society, education policies also saw significant reform towards Western standards in the second half of the nineteenth century. Drawing education formed part of this process, although the historic techniques were never entirely forgotten, as the authors were able to prove by means of the most important journal, historic drawing manuals and, not least, children's drawings. Ok-Hee **Jeong**'s paper discusses the long history of foreign influences on Korean art education. The art training through mimetic activities and the copying of masters' work influenced by the educational thought of Confucianism has been perceived in Korea as the traditional form of art education since the adoption of the Western art world. However, during the period of Japanese colonization and US military government, American educational ideology and pedagogies were transmitted and adopted within a milieu of economic, political, and social chaos and had a significant impact on South Korean art educators, curriculum planners, and the development of cultural identity in general. Xin **Hu**'s contribution is dedicated to the birth of the pedagogy of drawing in China at the beginning of the twentieth century and, in particular, the significance of Western educational concepts for this development. The author particularly focuses on precepts of the most important pioneers of modern Chinese drawing pedagogy. The central figure is the reformer Xu Beihong, who was educated at the École Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-arts in Paris and later developed a very influential style of drawing pedagogy in China that saw Western and Eastern methods combined. With Judith **Rottenburg**'s contribution on institutional drawing education in Senegal in the 1950s and 1960s, the volume turns to the discourse on the continent of Africa. The author focuses on the most important institution for Senegalese art education: the École des Arts Sénégal in Dakar, founded under French rule. Her main focus is on the transformation of drawing education when Senegal gained independence, which happened in various ways at the École: on the one hand, there were courses in technical drawing according to the European model; on the other, there were more traditional techniques of expressive drawing for the promotion of "authentic African art." However, instead of focusing on the contrast between these approaches, the author looks for ideological origins and overlaps of these methods that only at first sight seem fundamentally different. Finally, Charlotte **Bank**'s essay focuses on the educational policies in Syria from the middle of the nineteenth century until the middle of the twentieth century. While prospective artists in the Ottoman Empire were still required to travel to Istanbul or Europe for training, the end of World War I saw a tentative institutionalization of education in Syria under French rule. The focus of the French rulers lay on what they considered to be the development of traditional "Arab art." Once the independent Syrian Republic had been declared after World War II, an artistic scene developed for a short time period that was strongly characterized by the modern European era and political activity, though its institutions and players soon had to deal with government repression.

#### Bibliography

Andersen, Andreas: *Jost Amman. Graphiker und Buchillustrator der Renaissance 1539– 1591*, Amsterdam 1973.

Belting, Hans: *Florenz und Bagdad. Eine westöstliche Geschichte des Blicks*, Munich 2008.

El-Bizri, Nader: *Classical Optics and the 'Perspectivae' Traditions Leading to the Renaissance*, in: Hendrix, John S. and Charles H. Carman (eds.): *Renaissance Theories of Vision*, Farnham 2010, pp. 11–30.

Bonet Correa, Antonio: *La obra teórica de Juan de Arfe,* in: Sanz, María Jesús (ed.): *Centenario de la muerte de Juan de Arfe (1603–2003)*, Sevilla 2004, pp. 143–172.

Edgerton, Samuel Y.: *The Renaissance Rediscovery of Linear Perspective*, New York 1976.

Fowler, Caroline: *The Eye-as-Legend. Print Pedagogies in the Seventeenth Century*, in: kunsttexte.de, 4 (2010): https://doi. org/10.18452/6925 [29.11.2018]

Funke, Jutta: *Beiträge zum graphischen Werk Heinrich Vogtherr d. Ä.*, Berlin 1967.

Grivel, Marianne: *Les publications de Jean Cousin Fils*, in: Scailliérez, Cécile (ed.): *Jean Cousin Père et Fils. Une famille de peintres au XVIème siècle* (exh. cat.), Paris 2013, pp. 256–259.

Al-Haytham, Ibn: *The Optics*, ed. and trans. by Abdelhamid I. Sabra, 2 vols., London 1989.

Heilmann, Maria (ed.): *Ein Frembds und wunderbars kunstbüchlin allen Molern / Bildschnitzern / Goldschmiden / Steinmetzen / Schreinern / Platnern / Waffen un Messerschmiden hochnutzlich zu gebrauchen (Straßburg 1538 / 1572)*, in: Fontes, 61 (2011), http://doi.org/10.11588/artdok. 00001499 [29.11.2018].

Heilmann, Maria, Nino Nanobashvili, Ulrich Pfisterer and Tobias Teutenberg (eds.): *Punkt, Punkt, Komma, Strich. Zeichenbücher in Europa* | ca. 1525–1925 (exh. cat.), Passau 2014.

Heilmann, Maria, Nino Nanobashvili, Ulrich Pfisterer and Tobias Teutenberg (eds.): *Lernt Zeichnen! Techniken zwischen Kunst und Wissenschaft* | 1525–1925 (exh. cat.), Passau 2015.

Herder, Johann G.: *Ideen zur Philosophie der Geschichte der Menschheit*, 4 vols., Riga 1784–1791.

Juneja, Monica and Michael Falser (eds.): *Kulturerbe – Denkmalpflege: transkulturell. An Introduction*, in: Juneja, Monica and Michael Falser (eds.): *Kulturerbe und Denkmalpflege transkulturell. Grenzgänge zwischen Theorie und Praxis*, Bielefeld 2013, pp. 17–34.

Kemp, Martin: *The Science of Art. Optical Themes in Western Art from Brunelleschi to Seurat*, New Haven 1990.

Langenohl, Andreas, Ralph J. Poole and Manfred Weinberg: *Foreword*, in: Langenohl, Andreas; Ralph J. Poole and Manfred Weinberg (eds.): *Transkulturalität. Klassische Texte*, Bielefeld 2015, pp. 9–18.

Lindberg, David C.: *Alhazen's Theory of Vision and its Reception in the West*, in: Isis, 58.3 (1967), pp. 321–341.

Lindberg, David C.: *Theories of Vision from Al-Kindi to Kepler*, Chicago 1976.

Lukehart, Peter M.: *The Artist's Workshop. Proceedings of the Symposium "The artist's workshop"*, Washington, 10–11 March 1989, Hanover 1993.

Muller, Frank: *Heinrich Vogtherr l'Ancien. Un artiste entre Renaissance et Réforme*, Wiesbaden 1997.

Nanobashvili, Nino: *Das ABC des Zeichnens. Die Ausbildung der Künstler und der Dilettanti zwischen 1560 und 1630*, Petersberg 2018.

Necipoğlu, Gülru and Alina Payne (eds.): *Histories of Ornament. From Global to Local*, Princeton 2016.


Continuities

# Figural Line Persian Drawing, c. 1390–1450

Lamia Balafrej

A page from the Timurid workshop album features Persian drawings made between 1400 and 1450 (*»Fig. 1*).1 Most of these drawings have been approached as either training exercises or preparatory drawings providing the basis for later, more definitive works of art.2 At the lower left, we see a rectangular sheet with a geometric composition of vegetal designs – scrolls of leaves and palmettes are organized symmetrically into interlacing cartouches. A similar decoration was used on contemporary metal jugs.3 Figurative drawings, on the other hand, present generic figures that could be replicated, with slight variations, across a large number of manuscript paintings. The figures in the square sheet at the lower edge – the man reading from an open *safina* (an oblong manuscript) and the mounted rider who has just shot a deer with an arrow – are common in Persian painting, appearing, respectively, in representations of scholarly and festive gatherings4 and in illustrations of epic and lyric poetry.5

Yet, even if resemblances exist, we can only rarely identify the final product. Contemporary written documents such as historiographical texts and lyrical poetry suggest, moreover, that the line's expressive qualities were just as important as the concept the drawing helps to visualize. According to historical audiences, the line reads less as a contour designed to create motifs than as an object in its own right, endowed with


**Fig. 1** Album page with various drawings. Iran and Central Asia, c. 1400–1450. Ink and paper, 68 x 50 cm. Topkapi Palace Museum, Istanbul, Hazine 2152, folio 87a (© Topkapi Palace Museum).

plastic meaning and expressive effects. Following these indications, I take a closer look at the underexplored relationship of drawing and sensation. Seeking out the sensible within works of art usually approached as illustrative, this paper argues that the early Persian drawings' system of representation, although seemingly articulated into differentiated signs, cannot be reduced to a pre-given text.6 Looking more carefully at the plastic values of the line's sensory configuration, it uncovers what François Lyotard has called the figural potency of the line, its ability to chronicle, and capture, the sensory work of the artist.

#### Expressive drawing

The notion of the mediatory drawing reflects a mimetic, discursive understanding of the image, limiting drawing to an iconographic content. Drawing, it suggests, produces images that can be replaced by words, as though the figure drawn at the upper left of the album's folio, for instance, was equivalent to the verbal notation of "a seated figure, turning their back to the viewer." Especially when it represents figural motifs, drawing has been considered as an illustrative device, a means to produce pictorial signs that are transparent to their meaning.

The graphic style of Persian drawing has probably contributed to such reading. The hard-edged, weighted line appears indeed as an outline, transforming matter, here ink and paper, into differentiated signs. Because it is so firmly outlined, every motif can be linked to a fixed signified. The precision of the line defines Persian drawing, setting it apart from expressive, abstract artistic productions that aim at capturing the artist's body. On each album folio, and within each sheet, there are, moreover, clear intervals between the motifs. The difference between figure and ground is also emphasized. We seem to be dealing with a discontinuous system, one that foregrounds outlines, intervals, and gaps so as to create, just as in linguistic communication, an articulated field of significations.

Rather than registering a gestural performance, for most modern scholars, Persian drawing functions to generate visual signs. We recognize in this approach the classical conception of the outline as "a trap set by language," to use Yves Bonnefoy's expression,

6 Although the expressive dimension of the line has rarely been discussed, scholars have sensed the inadequacy of certain binaries such as preparatory and finished in describing Persian drawings, an important step to a discussion of drawing's function. Writing in 1936, Armenag Sakisian proposed to classify Persian drawing, *ṭarḥ* in Persian, into two groups. He distinguished preparatory drawings, *aṣl-i ṭarḥ* in Persian, from drawings designed as finished works, which, he considered, should be approached "like easel pictures." He also termed the former "line drawing" instead of "sketch," suggesting that any Persian drawing, regardless of its apparent level of execution, could be appreciated as a work of the line, not necessarily defined by a utilitarian value (Sakisian 1936, p. 19).

as the graphic signifier of invariant significations.7 Displaying discrete, self-contained forms, Persian drawing fashions a textual, informational space, designed to visualize words. In Nelson Goodman's distinction between image and language, it would fit within the latter category.8 As a catalogue of visual prototypes, the albums read less as a dense, infinite system than as an alphabet, as a finite, discontinuous system with a limited number of marks.

Yet many fifteenth-century drawings appear to resist the category of the preparatory drawing, and the linguistic approach to the image. They do not seem to match any paper-based or non-paper-based finished works of art. As noted by Thomas Lentz and Glenn Lowry, who included them in a separate category, characterizing them as "pictorial," they manifest elements usually absent from manuscript paintings and portable objects, such as "increased expression, freedom of line, and virtuosity."9 They also manifest "a tendency toward fantastic transformation of conventional subjects."10

One of the Timurid workshop album's most enigmatic images is a black-ink drawing situated in the middle of folio 57a.11 It represents a mesh of swirling leaves, delineated by a thick, fluid line (*»Fig. 2*). Often rendered in a lighter tone and confounded with the vegetation, a throng of animals can also be discerned. It includes waterfowls, hoopoes, a heron, a pair of monkeys, and a snake. In contrast with more illustrative drawings, wherein figural elements appear as discrete, independent units, here, vegetal and animal motifs are closely integrated, almost fused together. At the lower left, two monkeys are mounted on a wide, sprawling leaf whose lobes resemble animal paws or perhaps even faces, one of which, to the left, interlocks with a heron's legs. These, in turn, are grabbed by a monkey, whose ear is bitten by the second monkey. Meanwhile, the latter claps the head of a snake whose body interweaves into the leaf. One motif is linked to another in one continuous, interlacing movement.

This drawing clearly marks a distance from the illustrative image. Blurring the limits between the animal and the vegetal, the animate and the inanimate, the figurative and the ornamental, it reads less as a set of legible motifs than as a dense entanglement of lines. Instead of generating clear-cut visual signs, it stands out for its expressive qualities. We see not only vegetal and animal motifs but also the movement of the


<sup>7</sup> Louvel 2011, p. 35.

**Fig.2** Detail of an album page. Iran and Central Asia, c. 1400–1450. Ink and paper. Topkapi Palace Museum, Istanbul, Hazine 2152, folio 57a (@ Topkapi Palace Museum).

artist's hand and the action of the wrist, changing direction, speed, and inclination to create a sinuous, fluid line. The drawing's expressive dimension sheds a new light on the illustrative and decorative images (*»Fig. 1*). Approaching the line negatively, as the limit of a positive, namable space, one sees standing figures, horsemen, vegetal motifs. However, as we come closer to the contour, focusing on the line's materiality, on its modulations and speed, the figurative dimension slowly disappears, superseded by an image of the artist's gestural effort.

#### The arts of *taḥrīr*

Such expressive reading of the line appears in fact at the center of contemporary accounts. Historical viewers turned to the line to evaluate an artist's work, whether in painting, illumination, calligraphy, or contour drawing. They did not linger on the images' iconographic content. "Spectators with a critical eye" *(nāqidān-i baṣīr)*

as Dawlatshah Samarqandi (d. c. 1500) called them,12 "viewers with a subtle eye" *(mubaṣṣirān-i nuktidān)*,13 "who can see in a fair manner" *(az ruy-i inṣāf)*,14 to use the words of the Timurid historian Ghiyath al-Din Khwandamir (c. 1475–1534), practiced a form of close, critical looking. They examined the expressive qualities of the work, designated in the sources as *uslūb*15 (style), *ṭab'*16 (character) or *awṣāf-i taṣwīr*17 (the qualities of pictorial art). Specifically, they focused on the graphic quality of the visual arts.

Completed between 1541 and 1547, the *Tarikh-i rashidi* (The History of Rashid) of Mirza Muhammad Haydar Dughlat (1499 or 1500–1551) offers a rare insight into the late Timurid artistic scene.18 It contains a description of painters and draftsmen. The passage starts with two Timurid painters, Shah Muzaffar and his father, Ustad Mansur. About the latter, we read:

He possesses a fine, thin brush, and aside from Shah-Muzaffar, no one else has had a brush of such a fineness; however, it is slightly drier [than Shah-Muzaffar's]. He does combat scenes very forcefully.19

We then move to Ustad Mansur's student and son, Shah Muzaffar:

His brush has such a fineness and clarity and possesses such grace and maturity that the eye of the beholder is astonished.20

Notions of fineness, clarity, dryness, and grace foreground visual and material aspects of the line, such as its width, weight, speed, and regularity. It is not clear whether the text refers to painting or drawing. But whatever the medium, it comments on graphic qualities, as opposed to chromatic aspects or iconographic content.

The following entry is about the painter Bihzad:


قلم نازک باریک دارد که بغیر شاه مظفر دیگر قلم هیچ کس بآن نازکی نیست اما چیزی خشک تراست گرفت و گیرها را بغایت محکم ساخته

20 Muhammad Haydar 1934, p. 166. English translation by Thackston 1989, p. 361. The Persian قلمی دارد در غایت نازکی و صافی و مالحت و پختگی که چشم بیننده خیره ماند :reads text

As a painter he is a master. Although his hand is not so delicate as Shah-Muzaffar's, his brush is more forceful than the former's but the former's underdrawing and articulation are better than his.21

Here aspects of draftsmanship – the precision, delicacy, and strength of the hand – are observed in the medium of painting. Afterward, the text broadens its historical scope, turning back to the Ilkhanid period (1256–1335) and its iconic master painter 'Abd al-Hayy:22

Long ago in the time of the Hulaguid khans who were emperors of Iraq there was Khwaja Abdul-Hayy. […] In clarity of brush, fineness and solidity, indeed in all characteristics of painting, he has had no peer.23

Artistic evaluation, again, relies almost exclusively on an apprehension of the line and its plastic qualities, isolated from context and meaning. Works on paper, whether drawings or paintings, are approached as a web of lines, as a display of non-representational contours. They appear less as images than as material objects, evaluated for their "clarity," "fineness" and "solidity," considered to be the "characteristics of painting." Despite its figurative content and its controlled execution, drawing and painting elicited a mode of interpretation that moved from motif to line, from sign to hand.

The contour is a furrow, inscribed into the paper by the movement of the hand, precise and measured. The hand serves as a tool, laboring away at the perfectly outlined image. In Muhammad Haydar's account, the body's synecdoche is indeed the hand, but also the instrument. The *qalam* (whether the reed pen or the hair brush) is endowed with the aesthetic characteristics of the artist's work. What is described as fine, clear or graceful is the tool itself, not just the result of its endeavor. The metonymic displacement from work of art to instrument indicates an aesthetic reception that concentrates on making processes. Foregrounding labor instead of product, it defines the line less as an autonomous object than as the result of a physical effort. The metonymy of tool highlights the manual quality of the drawing as well as the tactile rather than strictly visual or even intellectual aspects of such labor.

21 Muhammad Haydar 1934, p. 166. English translation by Thackston 1989, p. 361. The Persian text reads:

وی مصور استادست اگر مقدار شاه مظفر نازک دست نیست اما قلم این ازوی محکم تراست طرح و استخوان بندی آن


در قدیم االیام در سلسله خواقین هالگوهی که باد شاهان عراق اند خواجه عبد الحی ]...[ در صفائی قلم و نازکی و محکمی بلک در اهمه اوصاف تصویر مشل وی پیدا نشده است

#### 24 Lamia Balafrej

The same vocabulary is used for the art of calligraphy, for example when describing Ja'far and Azhar, two calligraphers from the early fifteenth century:

Mawlana Ja'far's writing was heavy and broken yet it was solid, graceful, masterful and mature, while Mawlana Azhar, the delicacy that has been mentioned notwithstanding, wrote correctly but his hand was uneven.24

The line is the common denominator of drawing, calligraphy, and painting.25 It defines a transmedial aesthetics, an aesthetics of "*taḥrīr*," as we would like to call it. Meaning both "outline" and "writing," used in sources to address painters and calligraphers alike, *taḥrīr* defines painting and writing as forms of visual writing.26 *Taḥrīr* resonates with the concept of writing as defined by Roland Barthes. "What constitutes writing," Barthes suggests, "is not the sign […] but, much more paradoxically, the cursivity of the discontinuous." Writing and drawing are also both governed by the hand, "which bears down and advances or hands back, in short the hand which plows."27

Drawing is, moreover, a mode of self-revelation. Virtuosity had an ethical dimension. Muhammad Haydar's artistic biographies play with the limits between literal and figurative descriptions of the line, confounding the formal features of the work of art with the moral qualities of the maker. Hence the insistence on the purity (*ṣafa'ī*) of the drawing, its delicacy and niceness (*liṭāfat*), its grace (*malāḥat*), and maturity (*pukhtagī*). The aim of the line, as the Timurid calligrapher Sultan 'Ali Mashhadi said about the mythical inventor of kufic script, 'Ali ibn Abi Talib, "was not merely characters and dots but fundamentals, purity, virtue."28 In his advice to future calligraphers, Sultan 'Ali uses a series of aphorisms to foreground the relationship between calligraphy and morality, highlighting that "purity of writing proceeds from purity of heart" and that "writing is the distinction of the pure."29

Appearing "clean" and "light," "solid" and "mature," to use again some of the terms privileged in primary sources, the line bears witness to the artist's mood and personality. The pre-modern viewer might not be able to make the kind of empirical analysis favored by Morellian connoisseurs. A method of indexical reading established in the early nineteenth century by Giovanni Morelli (d. 1891), Morellian connoisseur-

24 Muhammad Haydar 1934, p. 162. English translation by Thackston 1989, p. 349. The Persian text reads:

موالنا جعفر کند و شکسته نوشته است ام محکم و مبالحت و پخته اما موالنا اظهر با وجود این لطافت که مذکور شد درست نوشته است اما دست ناهمواری دارد


ship relates works of art with individual hands through the study of *Grundformen* or fundamental forms – involuntary, unintended traces unconsciously repeated by artists across their work, for instance in the way they shape an ear or a hand, and which betray their physical identity.30

Yet, despite the lack of modern codicological, paleographical, and stylistic means, the "experimented eye" of the late Timurid beholder could still discriminate between different artists. Muhammad Haydar noted that Bihzad's hand was at once more forceful (*muḥkam*) and less delicate (*nāzuk*) than Shah Muzaffar's. In calligraphy, Ja'far's line is "solid, graceful, masterful, and mature." Azhar's hand, by contrast, can sometimes be "uneven." These are not objective criteria; they are evaluative. They reflect an aesthetic judgment as much as a practice of visual analysis. As such they can be used for different artists, and applied to different periods, regardless of issues of individual and temporal difference.

Persian drawing inflects a relation of line to person that goes beyond their physical contiguity. It is more of a spiritual activity, attesting to a draftsman's personality – his discipline, his rigueur, and his morality. Dawlatshah Samarqandi lauds the Timurid prince, also a renown calligrapher, Ibrahim Sultan, by comparing the elegance of his calligraphy (*luṭf-i khaṭṭ)* to the graciousness of his character (*luṭf-i ṭab'*)*.*31 Although artists did not draw likenesses of themselves (no self-portraits were produced at the time), they invested their works with traits of their character, as Sultan 'Ali suggested. The result is as much a physical remnant of the artist's gesture as a figure of his morality. Emphasizing graphic qualities, the painting becomes the emblem of a painter's moral character.

The whole thrust of the line, then, is not just aesthetic: it is also ethical. But how is it, exactly, that a material object can signify its maker, without resembling the artist's likeness, or offering unconscious traces of the individual hand? To use Charles Sanders Peirce's terminology, the line in Persian drawing, painting, and calligraphy does not work as an icon resembling its maker.32 Concealing signs of physical individuality, it does not function as a fingerprint either, an index from which the viewer could infer the presence of a single, historically situated artist. It does not invite to a description of the artist's working procedure. Albeit registering an artistic movement, each brush-


<sup>30</sup> For a recent discussion of Morellian connoisseurship, see Davis 2011, esp. chapter 4. On the broader epistemological context of the emergence of this method, see Ginzburg 1980. Carlo Ginzburg relates the emergence of Morellian stylistic attribution in the nineteenth century to a positivist practice of indicial reading, also shared by scientific methods, police investigation, and psychoanalysis.

stroke is so perfectly executed that it seems to defy the very notion of causality. The line does not reveal its signification through iconic or indexical means. How then does it evoke the artist? How come it can mediate between work and author?

#### Figural line

My centerpiece for understanding this problem of signification is a late fourteenth-century manuscript, a copy of the *Diwan* (collected poems) of Sultan Ahmad Jalayir (r. 1382 and 1410), the last great ruler of the Jalayirid dynasty.33 Composed of some three hundred folios of unadorned text written in black ink on a glossy white paper, the *Diwan* of Ahmad Jalayir contains, deployed in the margins of eight folios, a series of black-ink drawings.34 The images show no direct connection to the text that they accompany. In addition to challenging the expected illustrational function of figurative images in Persian manuscripts, these pictures constitute the first known examples of drawings conceived as autonomous works of art.

Each drawing presents a harmonious integration of nature, animals, and humans. One can see, in the lower margin of the first drawing, a farmer guiding water buffaloes and before them, ducks swimming in a pond (*»Fig. 3*).35 Framed by reeds, the landscape oscillates between dry land and marsh. In the outer margin, it evolves into a rockier terrain, with diagonal planes marked by rough, gnarled shrubs. Holding an infant, a woman walks with an elderly man toward the page's outer space. Beneath them, two buffaloes are looking in the other direction. In the upper margin, surrounded by swirling clouds, a flight of geese traverses the page.

Although legible, the figural drawing cannot be so easily linked to the text written on the same page. In the poem, the author has closely followed the conventions of the mystical *ghazal*. A poetic form of five to fifteen couplets, the *ghazal* developed a mystical inflection in the fourteenth century, weaving into the poem's customary emphasis on love an allegory of the divine.36 Here the first half of the poem stages an encounter


**Fig.3** Poems of Sultan Ahmad Jalayir (r. 1382–1410), Iran, c. 1400, 30 x 20.3 cm, f. 17 (?). Freer Gallery of Art, Washington D.C., F1932.30 (@ Smithsonian Institution).

of the narrator with his beloved.37 The scene takes place in a garden (*gulistān*) at dawn. Comparing his companion to a cypress (*sarw*), the poet wonders what water and what air might have nourished such beauty.38

In its second half, the poem carries mystical inflections. As is customary in the mystical *ghazal*, the erotic introductory theme segues into a reflection about the pursuit of love (*'ishq*), the passage of time, and the final dissolution of the lover into divine plenitude.39 Love is a mystical allegory for the spiritual quest of God's wisdom, wherein the lover stands for the Sufi seeker and the beloved for God. The poem is couched in figurative language. The cypress figures the beloved and the mystic is compared to a traveler (*sālik*).

The accompanying drawing echoes some of these themes. The geese and the family walking through the page convey an idea of movement, allegorizing the mystic's journey. Other elements of the landscape project a sense of motion, including the convolutions of the clouds, the diagonal lines of the hills, the wake of the ducks, or the movement of the reeds, quivering in the breeze. The topography itself is in constant flux: a field becomes a pond, which turns into a hilly landscape.

Yet the drawing also departs from the text. There is no specific meaning in Sufi literature that can be associated with the representation of ducks and buffaloes for instance, or with the image of the woman carrying her newborn. Despite its emphasis on nature and movement, which can prompt a mystical interpretation, the drawing stands out for its generic aspect. In contrast with the *ghazal'*s multilayered structure, it presents a rather simple image of pastoral life. It also projects a sense of peacefulness, contradicting the poem and its emphasis on annihilation. Breaking from the illustrational paradigm that had informed courtly-sponsored book paintings, the drawing creates an effect of surprise.

Puzzled by the discrepancy between word and image, most scholars have concentrated on identifying the hidden literary source of the iconography, thus privileging again the mimetic paradigm mentioned earlier. The key study of the *Diwan* remains the article published by Deborah Klimburg-Salter in 1977, in which she claims the drawings to be an illustration of the *Manṭiq al-ṭayr* (The Speech of the Birds) by the poet 'Attar (1142–1220).40 'Attar's poem is a collection of tales and moralistic anecdotes, framed by a story recounting the spiritual journey of a group of birds. The frame narrative is an allegory of the mystical pursuit of truth. According to Klimburg-Salter, the drawings of the *Diwan* illustrate the first six valleys through which the birds must travel before they can discover Simurgh, the fantastic bird that represents God: the


40 Klimburg-Salter 1977.

در بالی قامت رسو تو گشتم مبتال چشم فتانت چه گویم خود بالی دیگرست 5: and 4 verses In 38 در کدام آب و هوا پرورده اند این خوب را شهر خوبانرا مگر آب و هوائی دیگرست احمدا فانی شو اندر عاشقی مردانه وار در حقیقت نیستی را خود بقائی دیگرست :reads verse final The 39 valley of the quest, the valley of love, the valley of understanding, the valley of detachment, the valley of unity, and the valley of astonishment. No illustration was made for the seventh valley, the valley of nothingness; an absence is in itself illustrative of the text, which describes the valley as incomprehensible.

Upon closer examination, one realizes, however, that the drawings cannot so easily be linked to 'Attar's narrative.41 The second drawing represents two enamored couples and might indeed point to the valley of love. The third one features a gathering of scholars, echoing the pursuit of knowledge addressed in the valley of understanding. But the other drawings do not so easily match the poem. To the extent that we interpret the first image as a representation of travelers, the drawing might represent the valley of quest. This reading, however, does not apply to all the characters depicted in the image. The fourth image, presumably an illustration of the valley of detachment, represents the exact opposite. Featuring a bustling nomadic camp, filled with earthily possessions from livestock to tents to food, it is a celebration of materiality.

Unless it is that the images, through their enigmatic appearance, parallel 'Attar's allegory in the experience that they provide. Perhaps they were set, as Oleg Grabar put it, "as so many surprises comparable to the surprising adventures of the search for salvation in Attar's poetical account."42 Perplexing the viewer's mind, generating multiple readings, they invite the beholder to a ceaseless hermeneutic labor, like the Sufi seeker in his pursuit of Truth. The pictures do not convey a single meaning but rather propose a detour to prolonged, concentrated meditation.

We cannot do justice to the drawings unless we consider them together with another major novelty of the *Diwan*: the style and quality of its calligraphy. The text is penned in an elegant, fine *nasta'liq*, a script that developed at the same moment.43 From *ta'liq*, an Arabic and Persian word meaning "hanging" or "suspended," *nasta'liq* is characterized by a certain restlessness. In contrast with former calligraphic styles such as *naskh*, which was more rectilinear, the letters never quite sit on the baseline. Rather, following oblique lines, they seem to hang and swing, hooked up to an invisible point at their upper right.

In fact, *nasta'liq* closely echoes the line drawing in the same page of the *Diwan*. We are struck indeed by the graphic quality of the calligraphy and the calligraphic flow of the drawing, which appears like a flourish, extended from the text. There are visual resonances between both art forms, in the ways in which the pen strokes of the *nasta'liq* and the lines of the drawing, for instance, swirl or slant. The art of *taḥrīr* informs both text and image, center and periphery, harmonizing the page into one lyrical entanglement of lines.

43 For a thorough analysis of the emergence of this script and further references, see Wright 2012, chapter 4.

<sup>41</sup> For reproductions, see Atıl 1978, pp. 11–27 and the museum's website https://www.freersackler. si.edu/collections/ using the inventory numbers F1932.30 to F1932.37 [16.1.2019].

<sup>42</sup> Grabar 2006, p. 231.

The drawing registers a wide array of rhythmic movements, equating every motif with a set of gestures. In the tufts of grass, one sees a quick, impressionistic brushstroke. The cloths' contour records a longer, more fluid movement. The bushes are quite heavy and dense, while the stem of the reeds expresses a lighter, almost immaterial touch. With every figurative element functioning as the residue of a specific hand movement, the drawing as a whole is a seismograph, measuring and recording the draftsman's sensations. The lyrical drawing represents the topography of a landscape as much as it diagrams the artist's performance.

Each motif embodies a particular aspect of the draftsman's skills. As such the Freer drawing offers more than a seismograph; it herds the artist's activity into regular, figurative patterns. We gain access to the draftsman's mastery through the detour of figural representation, as though the artist needed figurative images in order to express the full range of his skills.

That the line could provide the basis for metaphorical associations is quite strongly suggested by Persian lyrical poetry. This is no coincidence as all three modes of expression – drawing, calligraphy, and lyrical poetry – developed at the same moment. It is even possible that *nasta'liq* was directly influenced by the *ghazal*, a highly stylized poem offering a mixture of courtly, erotic, and mystical themes (the *ghazal* also dominates the *Diwan* of Sultan Ahmad). *Nasta'liq*, which emerged in the second half of the fourteenth century when the mystical *ghazal* was developed by Hafiz, "may well have been affected by the emotion and mood of the poem, expressed through both its language and rhythm," as Elaine Wright noted.44

Several verses of *ghazal* bear witness to the consubstantiality of calligraphy, drawing and poetry. More specifically, they point to a metaphorical reading of the line, for instance in this verse, where Hafiz describes the beloved's hair:

At the scent of that musk-sac which, at last, the Saba loosed from those locks, From the shining twists of his musk-black curls, what blood rushed into (lovers') heart.45

The hair of the beloved is compared to a mesh of black, shiny curls, one that recalls the twists of the *nasta'liq* script and the sinuous line of Persian drawing. It is also likened to a bag of musk, whose perfume is liberated by the morning breeze (*saba*), an image that further alludes to both calligraphy and drawing, since black ink was sometimes perfumed with musk.

ز تاب جعد مشکینش چه خون افتاد در دلها

<sup>44</sup> Wright 2012, pp. 251–252.

<sup>45</sup> This is the first *ghazal* of Hafiz. English translation by Meisami 2003, p. 419. The Persian text به بوی نافهای کاخر صبا زان طره بگشاید :reads

The sense of smell, moreover, emphasizes the tactile aspect of the mystical experience. The poem describes a haptic space in which a breeze comes through, unlocking the lover's hair. Loosening the curls, freeing the scent of musk, it turns the beloved's face into a calligraphic performance. The sinuous line, then, the scent of the ink, and the shiny quality of the paper can be compared to the beloved. They do not only point to their makers' gestural efforts; they evoke the mystical quest for love.

Dated to the end of the fourteenth century and attributed to the Herati poet Mawlana 'Ali Badr, another poetic verse uses a more explicit link between mystical love and book arts, emphasizing the visual and olfactory resonances between calligraphy and human figure:

The musky down on the camphor page of your cheek is a verse (sign) of beauty scriven.46

The beloved's face is compared to a manuscript page and his down to a line of calligraphy from which emanates the odor of musk. As well as recording the lyrical movement of the artist's hand, lines could also embody the poet's object of desire, encoding the face of the beloved into the twists of the line, the smoothness of the paper and the scent of the ink.

A verse by Hafiz further links calligraphy to the poet's body:

Cupid's arrow tore and cleaved Hafiz's heart I see his verses, with their wet ink, bleed.47

Associating ink with blood, Hafiz's verses are likened to the poet's own flesh. The wetness of the ink, most visible in the moment when the pen nib touches the paper, evokes the wound caused by Cupid's arrow. To pen Hafiz's verse is to recreate the poet's experience of love. The calligraphic line is not a passive object. Activated by poetry, it reveals the face of the beloved, and the countenance of the poet. Body and line stand in a reciprocal relationship to one another: the hand inscribes the line that draws, metaphorically, a face.

Examining the lyrical verve of the drawing, the eye uncovers the artist's sensations as well as, with the guidance of historiographical writings and lyrical poetry, a series of associative images linking the line to the artist's bodily movements, to the poet's pursuit of divine love, and to the beloved's face. I am not suggesting that drawing has become illustrative again. The line's materiality evokes figurative motifs in a metaphorical way,


prompting an association with these images through the viewer's sensual engagement. These associations in effect are not there. They only emerge in the subjective experience of the beholder who considers the line as a platform for metaphorical elaboration.

As such the line reads less as figurative than figural, to use Jean-François Lyotard's distinction. The figurative belongs to what Lyotard calls a textual space: a space where signs are "formed so as to permit the recognition of significations, in the same way that words are spoken by the addressed for the addressee to hear them."48 In a figurative representation of the artist, we would see his likeness. The figural, by contrast, privileges materiality over content. Exceeding the figurative, the figural lies in the sensory body of letters and images – for instance, in the "letter's form, energy, thickness, size, weight."49 Like the varied thickness of the line in Persian drawing, these aspects have no bearing on the informational value of the verbal message: the text does not need them to convey its meaning. Attending to the figural instead of the figurative, we move from iconography to materiality.

In Persian drawing and painting, the calligraphic line can be read both ways, either figuratively or figurally. On the one hand, the line creates a textual space: we recognize concepts, and we can read stories. But it is also the "trace of a condensing, displacing, figuring, elaborating energy, with no regard for the recognizable," to use Lyotard's general characterization of the line.50 It takes time and patience to detect the figural dimension of the graphic medium. One must "remain permeable to the floating presence of the line," and foster a certain "sensitivity to plastic space," skills that our "discursive education and teaching" have not necessarily enforced, urging us instead "to enclose every object in the field of signification."51

To return to our conundrum – how can the line represent the artist if it does not offer an icon of his face, and if it withholds individual traces of execution? – the line, it can now be suggested, evokes the painter in a figural way: not through self-portraiture or impression evidence but through the symbolic possibilities of the medium. Self-representation is not an inherent feature of drawing. Rather, it is relational: it lies in the equation between the line's visual and material characteristics and the cultural and aesthetic values that shape the viewer's gaze.


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# The Epistemology of the ABC Method Learning to Draw in Early Modern Italy

Nino Nanobashvili

Even if some northern European drawing books in the tradition of Albrecht Durer started with a dot, a line and geometrical figures (*» Fig. 1*), the so-called ABC method was the most popular approach in the European manuals between the sixteenth and nineteenth centuries. Thus, these drawing books began by initially presenting the parts of the body in the same order: eyes, noses, mouth, ears, heads, hands, feet and so on, and continued by constructing the whole body. This method was named "ABC" because of its basic character and because of parallelizing the drawing process of face members with letters.1 Most manuals for beginners from other fields were similarly named in general ABCs.2 Artists had been using the ABC method in their workshops at least since the mid-fifteenth century in Italy, much before the first drawing books were printed. Around 1600 it became so self-evident that a pupil should begin their drawing education with this method that one can recognize the youngest apprentices in programmatic images just by studying eyes and noses.3 Even on the ceiling of *Sala del Disegno* in the Roman *Palazzo Zuccari* the youngest student at the left of *Pittura* presents a piece of paper with a drafted eye, ear and mouth (*» Fig. 2*).4

What is the reason that the ABC method became so common at least in these three centuries? How could drawing body parts be useful at the beginning of artistic

1 In 1683, Giuseppe Mitelli arranged body parts together with letters in his drawing book *Il Alfabeto del Sogno* to emphasize this parallel. Karel van Mander was one of the first authors who called this method ABC: "Everybody should be very grateful to a great Master, who, for your benefit, O Youth, would publish in engraving an ABC book on the principles of our Arts." / "Nu grootlijxe waer een groot Meester te dancken / Die in sned' uytgaef u / o Ieucht / ter jonsten / Een A. b. boeck / van't begin onser Consten." Van Mander (1604) 1916, p. 56. English translation by Thiel 1965, p. 124.


<sup>2</sup> Barr 2006, p. 72. Nanobashvili 2018, p. 35–36.

**Fig. 1** Sebald Beham: *Warhafftige Beschreibung aller fürnemen Künsten, wie man Malen vnd Reissen lernen soll,* Frankfurt a. M. 1605, Fol. [2v] (Heidelberg University, urn:nbn:de:bsz:16 diglit-172860 [29.11.2018]).

**Fig.2** Federico Zuccari: *Sala del Disegno,* Palazzo Zuccari, Rom (Kliemann 2013, p. 166).

education? And why was the method not updated almost until the nineteenth century, even if artistic expression had changed so much? In the following three chapters, I would like to trace back the origins of the ABC method and suggest new understanding for its background.5

#### Grammar of the body

Best-known earliest examples of the ABC method can be found in printed drawing books after 1600, in the so-called *Scuola Perfetta* and in Odoardo Fialettis *Il vero modo*, both published for *dilettanti*.6 But, as Andreas Schumacher had argued, this method was already well known in Italy by the 1520s for artists' education.7 The method's origins can be traced back to the fifteenth century:

Among many drawings from the workshop of Francesco di Simone Ferrucci from 1487–88 one can find exercises of faces, antique fragments and putti. A nose, a mouth and an eye are drafted in the upper corner of one sheet (*»Fig. 3*). The message on the top of this page can be identified as a note by the master to his student, "Dear Michele, I remind you to repeat these figures a hundred times."8 The student seems to be a beginner as the ABC method started by drawing eyes and noses again and again.


**Fig.3** Francesco di Simone Ferrucci: Sketch-Book, black chalk on paper, 1452–1493, The British Museum, London, Inv. 1875,0612.16 (Nanobashvili 2018, p. 38).

**Fig.4** Giovambattista Palatino: *Libro nel qual s'insegna à scriver ogni sorte lettera,* Rom 1550, Fol. Biii v.

Furthermore, in *Della Pittura* (1435/36) Leon Battista Alberti suggests a special method for learning face members, which was relevant for the ABC and could be compared with a writing lesson:

I would like, at least, that those who undertake the art of painting should follow what I see being done among teachers of writing. Those, in effect, first teach separately all characters of the alphabet. Thereafter they prepare to bring together the syllables and subsequently the expressions. Therefore, let our [painters] also follow this procedure in painting. At first, let them [learn] the edge of surfaces, [I would say] almost the elements of painting, then the connections of the same [surfaces]; from here on, let them *learn by heart* with precision the shape of all members, and all the differences that can be found in the members. In fact, those [differences] are surely neither few nor insignificant. There will be those whose nose is hooked. There will be those who show flattened, curved, and wide nostrils; others who present flaccid cheeks; thin lips distinguish others; and above all the single member have, in their turn, something in particular that, when it will have been present in greater or less

**Fig.5** Odoardo Fialetti: *Il vero modo et ordine per dissegnar tutte le parti et membra del corpo humano,* Venedig 1608, Fol. 7 (Heidelberg University, https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.25922 [29.11.2018]).

measures, then it renders the whole limb very different. Indeed, we see how the same member chubby in us as children and so to say rounded and smooth are, instead, with the arising of old age, harsher and rather bony.9

9 Sinisgalli 2011, S. 77. "Voglio che i giovani, quali ora nuovi si danno a dipingere, così facciano quanto veggo di chi impara a scrivere. Questi in prima separato insegnano tutte forme delle lettere, quali gli antichi chiamano elementi; poi insegnano le silabe; poi apresso insegnano componere tutte le dizioni. Con questa ragione ancora seguitino i nostri a dipingere. In prima imparino ben disegnare gli orli delle superficie, e qui se essercitino quasi come ne' primi elementi della pittura; poi imparino giungere insieme le superficie; poi imparino ciascuno forma distinta di ciascuno membro, e mandino a mente qualunque possa essere differenza in ciascun membro. E sono le differenza de' membri non poche e molto chiare. Vedrai a chi sarà il naso rilevato e gobbo; altro arrano le narici scimmie o arovesciate aperte; altri porgerà i labri pendenti; alcuni altri arrano ornamento di labrolini magruzzi. E così essamini il pittore qualunque cosa a ciascuno membro essendo più o meno, il facci differente. E noti ancora quanto veggiamo, che i nostri membri fanciulleschi sono ritondi, quasi fatti a tornio, e dilicati; nella età più provetta sono aspri e canteruti." Alberti 2002, p. 155 (Nr. 55).

Even if Alberti's statement on comparing drawing with writing is programmatic and should not be understood literally, there are similarities in the teaching methods of both fields. This becomes most evident by looking closer at the first printed writing- and drawing-manuals from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.10 In these early writing books authors mostly explain every particular step and present how to modify a letter in 4 or 5 sequences (*»Fig.4*).11 As we see in one of the early drawing books by Odoardo Fialetti, he transforms the same method for learning each face member line by line (*»Fig.5*).

According to Alberti's programmatic quote, a drawing lesson should resemble writing even in its structure. After learning the body parts as letters, one should combine them as syllables, and later as words ("expressions"). A similar idea can be found in all five versions of Alessandro Allori's unfinished drawing book (1565–1580), which is the first written evidence of the ABC method.12 The didactic part begins with the proceeding steps: after teaching the fragments of the face line by line, Allori introduces measures to order the parts to a head (*»Fig. 6*) and later to the whole body. In comparison with the writing lesson, the measures used by Allori can be understood here metaphorically as grammar of the body. As one needs grammar rules to construct a whole sentence out of single letters, measures are fundamental to combine the fragments to a whole body in a correct way.

Beyond comparing the drawing and writing methods on the visual level, as it had already been done before, the way of teaching seems to be similar as well.13 Repeating the same form a "hundred times", as Francesco di Simone Ferrucci wrote to his students, can be compared with the didactic methods of the early modern grammar books. For instance, Aldo Manuzio taught the reader of his widely published volume *Institutionum grammaticarum libri quatuor* (1493) to learn the long lists of syllables by heart. Only afterwards was the student able to use them in a proper way for words and sentences. Body parts could be compared with the syllables in this context. A student would only be able to combine the whole body out of the fragments after learning them profoundly by drawing them again and again.

Through parallelizing drawing with writing, artists sought to make the basis of education in their field more similar to the intellectual foundations. This happened not only in theory, as in *Della Pittura* by Alberti, but also in practice, as one can find in many drawing books. Drawing not only resembled writing because one used a line to express ideas but because constructing a form or a human body paralleled the production of text.


**Fig.6** Alessandro Allori: *Ragionamenti delle regole del disegno,* Manuskript E, 1572–1580, Fol. 61v, Biblioteca Nazionale, Florence, Inv. Palat. E.B.16.4.

#### Why printed images?

Even if the paradigmatic role of writing lessons is clear, it is still questionable how useful it could be for a pupil to draw two-dimensional forms, and how could he transform these figures into lifelike images? Why did students initially have to draw such rigid images instead of studying three-dimensional examples, such as plaster casts or life models?

One reason would be the availability of prints and drawings in comparison to sculptures or models. All artists owned printed examples or at least their own drawings, which were used in the workshops. Drawing after a model or a nude had to be planned and were most likely expensive. On top of that, a selection of sculptures was not available everywhere. Besides the practical reasons, that prints and drawings were easily available, I would suggest looking at the theories on cognition and seeing, to understand the usefulness of two-dimensional examples.

In the Aristotelian tradition relevant in the early modern period, cognition was understood as an unscribed tablet "tabula rasa" on which all new impressions left their imprints as a wax seal.14 Following this idea, a two-dimensional image would be a most "suitable" to leave an impression in pupils' minds, as it was a flat effigy in itself. In this way, two-dimensional images seem to be the best example at the beginning of artistic education. By drawing exemplary images many times, students could memorize them and at the same time gain perfect "marks", which could be reproduced and combined later out of the mind in many different ways.

In the well known art educational book of Giovanni Battista Armenini *On the true precepts of the art of painting* the author seems to refer to this Aristotelian concept, that a drawing process could make an impression on mind. After describing how to study face members following the ABC method he writes: "In prescribed manner, one makes copies [of eyes, noses and ears] until the paper is full. This is done to accustom the hand and to make a deeper impression on mind".15

Whether we look at Aristotle's "wax seal" or also at Kepler's "retina images", where he compares the sight with camera obnscura, in these theories the seen object is first transferred to a two-dimensional representation until one can perceive it.16 Following this observation for the early modern times, the printed (or painted) two-dimensional images could be understood as most appropriate examples to begin the learning process, as they repeated the seen "representation" of all forms.


#### 'Fabricating' the body

Asking why students should begin their education by drawing two-dimensional prints raises a further question: why commence with eyes and noses? As mentioned before, most drawing books begin initially with members of the head, followed by the whole body, and concluding with examples of figures (*»Fig. 5*). But why did they not start with more simple forms, like geometrical objects or landscape elements? Even if the head and eyes were thought to be most important body parts, could this metaphorical importance be the only reason for choosing those features as a starting point? An answer could be found in discussions on practical educational programs that transpired in the newly founded Florentine *Accademia del Disegno* of the 1560s. Two different positions of Alessandro Allori and Benvenuto Cellini seem most remarkable in this context and should be discussed closer.

Allori shows his confidence in the ABC method in his above-mentioned drawing book manuscript. His long working process on this manual from 1560s to 1580s can be reconstructed by five versions of his manual. In each renewed draft he changed both the structure of text as well as the progression of topics. The only element that he never transformed was his decision to begin the practical part with the ABC method, teaching the students how to draw the members of the face line by line and then the whole head (*» Fig. 7*).17 It seems at the same time that Allori knew this method well and he recognized its importance, not willing to change it over the years.

Also Benvenuto Cellini was familiar with the ABC method. By his account, he was even educated by the same method in the 1520s.18 In contrary to Allori, he criticized it in his treatise *Principles and method of learning the art of drawing*, "I hold for certain that this [ABC] method is not a good one [...] and that the true and better method would be to put in front of them [young students] things that would not only be easier, but also more useful than beginning by drawing an eye."19 Instead, he suggested starting artistic education by drawing the "first bone of the shin". Cellini's critique has never been considered as part of an educational method, but only as a programmatic statement to emphasize the meaning of anatomy.20

Looking at Giovanni Stradano's drawing for the Roman artist's academy from the 1570s, it seems that both ideas of Allori and Cellini were discussed in a broader circle (*»Fig. 8* ).


<sup>17</sup> For different versions of Allori's manuscript and for the new classification of the five version, see Nanobashvili 2018, pp. 21–34.

**Fig.7** Alessandro Allori: *Ragionamenti delle regole del disegno,* Manuskript A, ca. 1565, Fol. 54r, Biblioteca Nazionale, Florence, Inv. Palat. E.B.16.4.

**Fig.8** Giovanni Stradano: *Drawing for the print,* 1573, The British Museum, London, Inv. SL,5214.2 (Nanobashvili 2018, p. 43).

This artist's academy in Rome was presumably founded with the support of Medici soon after the Florentine *Accademia del Disegno* (1563) in 1570s, even before the *Accademia di San Luca* started their meetings in 1593.21 In this context, Stradano designed two related preparatory drawings for prints for both academies emphasizing the symbols of each city.22 In the Roman version, personifications of arts and students are gathered in one place: in the background on the left, the personification of painting is working on a historic scene; in the center, sculpture is making a statue of Athena, the patron goddess of Rome with Romulus and Remus at her feet; architecture is seated at the table; next to him engraving, and anatomy on the right. The two youngest boys represent the first steps of education: in the very right corner, a standing boy is drawing a bone of the skeleton. At the left edge a small boy is repeating the form of an eye over and over again (*»Fig. 8*). Since the two pupils were put in opposite corners and approaching the first rudiments of drawing in disparate ways, it seems that Stradano depicted here two discussed ways of drawing education. Allori's ABC can be recognized on the left side and Cellini's drawing the bones as anatomy approach on the right side.

Besides the metaphorical meaning of both methods of drawing education, which are based on the intellectual path of either writing or anatomy, the question arises as to whether Allori and Cellini had further reasons to suggest different educational methods? To contextualize both discussed methods, I would first suggest following Cellini's anatomical path and then confronting it with Allori's ABC.

As one can see in the programmatic texts and images made for Florentine and Roman academies, the artistic climate of these institutions gave anatomy new purchase in the tradition of Michelangelo as the most prominent foundation of artistic knowledge. Artists had not only to acquire knowledge of the internal parts of the body. They were also expected metaphorically to "build" the body in their imagination inside out, following the example of nature, starting with the bones, which should be covered by flesh and later by the skin.23 This process of "constructing" the body was mostly compared with the iconography of the resurrection of the dead, as for instance Prophet Ezekiel mentioned in the Old Testament.24

Ascanio Condivi, biographer of Michelangelo, cited this ancient idea of three steps for describing the fresco of resurrection in the Sistine Chapel:

22 For the drawing, see Heilmann/Nanobashvili/Pfisterer/Teutenberg 2015, pp. 299–301 (*Kat. 54*, Nino Nanobashvili). For the focus of different images for the academies, see: Schulze Altcappenberg/Thimann 2007, pp. 114–117 (*Kat. 26*, Ulrich Pfisterer).

<sup>21</sup> For the foundation of the Roman artist's academy before the activities of Federico Zuccari, see: Marciari 2009.

<sup>23</sup> See Krüger 2002.

<sup>24</sup> Giorgio Ghisi engraved the vision of Ezekiel and presented the transformation of the skeletons step by step, rising from the graves, "dressed" in flesh in the second step and later becoming the whole figure, here depicted as marble sculptures. See Krüger 2002, pp. 159–162.

In this work, Michelangelo expressed all that the art of painting can do with the human figure, leaving out no attitude or gesture whatever. […] At the sound of the trumpets, the graves on earth are seen to open and the human race to issue forth in various and amazing attitudes; although some, according to the prophecy of Ezekiel, have [1] their skeletons merely reassembled, [2] some have them half-clothed in flesh, and [3] others, completely.25

Condivi emphasized Michelangelo's knowledge of anatomy and contextualized his skills. Following Condivi, the divine artist used the similar anatomical way for constructing the bodies from inside out in his paintings, as Godfather and nature did. By referring to the resurrection and the act of animation, Michelangelo breathed life into the depicted bodies, and his approach served as exemplary for other artists.

Cellini's previously quoted statement, in which he suggested beginning drawing education with the rendering of bones, can be understood as a reference to the same idea. He aimed to establish an anatomical way of constructing the body from the very first educational steps, which would follow the example of Michelangelo and yield lifelike bodies. Following this argument, Cellini's method does not presume to represent a simplification of ABC by stating to draw members of the head. Rather, he suggested an alternative and challenging road to allow the students to enliven depicted bodies.26

Let us now compare the ABC method that Alessandro Allori initially used for his drawing manual with Cellini's anatomical approach and ask if Allori had a similarly significant reason for choosing this method. As we have seen before, the artistic ABC imitated the teaching methods of language lessons and parallelized letters and syllables with body parts. In this way, learning to draw was compared with an intellectual act of text production. Two further examples from the Aristotelian context could lead us to the better and new understanding of this method.

On Giulio Bonasone's last print from a series of amorous god-couples *Amorosi Diletti degli Dei* one can see the seated *Pittura* drawing a child on the canvas with the aid of Apollo at her back (*»Fig. 9*). Ulrich Pfisterer interpreted the drawing process of the gods in this print metaphorically as procreation.27 It is thus noteworthy that *Pittura* initially outlined the head of the "new born" on the canvas. This print goes back to

<sup>25</sup> Wohl 1976, pp. 83–84. "In quest'opera Michelangolo espresso tutto quel che d'un corpo umano può far l'arte della pittura, non lasciando in dieto atto o moto alcuno. [...] Al suono di queste trombe, si vedono in terra aprire i monumenti, et uscir fuore l'humana spetie, in varii et meravigliosi gesti, mentre che alcuni, secondo la prophezia di Ezechiel, solamente l'ossatura hanno riunita insieme, alcuni di carni mezza vestita, altritutta." Condivi 2009, p. 40, Fol. 37r–37v.

<sup>26</sup> Remarkably, Cellini took into account the idea of the vivification of the sculpture to life in his casting process. The creation was imitated by parallelizing the steel "skeleton" with bones and bronze with earth and blood. See for this parallel Cole 2002, pp. 43–78.

<sup>27</sup> Pfisterer 2005, pp. 46–52.

**Fig.9** Giulio Bonasone: *Pictura and Apollo,* c. 1545, engraving, London, Inv. 1875,0612.16 (Nanobashvili 2018, p. 38).

**Fig. 10** Hildegard von Bingen: *Liber Schivias,* Rupertsberg Codex, 12th Century, I.4, Fol. 22, lost (Saurma-Jeltsch 1998, plate 22).

the Aristotelian idea and imitates the creation of a child as the philosopher mentions in "On the Generation of Animals" (*Historiae Animalium*):

Now the upper portion of the body is the first to be marked off in the course of the embryo's formation; the lower portion receives its growth as time goes on (This applies to the blooded animals.) In the early stages the parts are all traced out in outline; later on they get their various colours and softness and hardness, for all the world as if a painter were at work on them, the painter being Nature. Painters, as we know, first of all sketch in the figure of the animal in outline, and after that go on to apply the colour.

As the source of the sensation is in the heart, the heart is the first part of the whole animal to be formed; and, on account of the heat of the heart, and to provide a corrective to it, the cold causes the brain to "set", where the blood-vessels terminate above. That is why the regions around the head begin to form immediately after the heart and are bigger that other parts, the brain being large and fluid from the outset.

The development of the eye is something of a puzzle to the student. In birds, beasts, and fishes alike, the eye are from the outset very large in appearance, yet they are the last of all the parts to be completely formed, since they shrink up in the meantime.28

According to Aristotle, a head is the body part created first, soon followed by the heart and the eyes at the very beginning. Even if the creation act was not demonstrated in detail as much in the early modern images, one can find its depiction in the medieval manuscript on the visions of Hildegard von Bingen *Liber Scivias* (*»Fig. 10*). The image represents the animation of an embryo and reflects Aristotle's parallel to cheese production in the background.29 According to the philosopher's comparison, just as adding the fig juice to milk produces cheese, so, too does the meeting of sperm and fetus animate the human child. The eyes and circles in the golden rhombus in the center of this image symbolize the light according to Hildegard's vision and stand for animation on the embryo. It is important to emphasize that in this image the eyes stand for the vivification of the child and for the beginning of life.

The start of drawing manuals by rendering members of the head and mostly the eyes seems to go back to this Aristotelian notion of procreation: eyes one of the first parts formed in the womb and at the same time, they stand for the animation. By learning the ABC method (in order of eyes, nose, mouth, ears, head and so on), the young artist enacted a process parallel to the way in which it was believed, that nature formed and enlivened an embryo.

Looking at Allori's and Cellini's educational programs, it seems that both artists aimed to introduce a drawing method that reflected the process, whereby man himself came into being. In the case of Cellini, it meant "building" the body from inside out, a procedure that imitated the resurrection of the dead and the enlivening of the body. In the case of Allori, it resembled the generation of human life. Both positions shared a common goal: demonstrating to a student how to construct an animated lifelike depiction.

The ABC was not only a noble and useful way of teaching, because it imitated methods of language lesson, but it also reflected a fundamental artistic discussion about enlivening the artwork. By learning the ABC, the student chose a path to imitate

<sup>28</sup> Aristotle: *De generatione animalium,* Book II, Part 6. Pfisterer 2005, pp. 48–49.

<sup>29</sup> See for the image Fricke [2015].

the creation of the human body from the very beginning. It seems that the basis of this method was never made a subject of discussion in the following centuries but every artist and drawing manual just referred to it. As demonstrated before, it can be observed in the middle of sixteenth century, when the first text and drawings on systematic education were invented.

#### Bibliography


Aristotle: *On the Generation of Animals (De generatione animalium)*, transl. Arthur Leslie Peck, Cambridge (Mass.) 1943.

Armenini, Giovanni Battista: *De' Veri Precetti della Pittura*, Ravenna 1578.

Barr, Helen: *Lektionen. Bronzino, Allori, Naldini. Studien zum Lehrer-Schüler-Verhältnis in der Florentiner Malerei des mittleren Cinquecento*, Pd.D diss., Univ. Heidelberg 2006.

Beham, Sebald: *Warhafftige Beschreibung aller fürnemen Künsten, wie man Malen vnd Reissen lernen soll*, Frankfurt a. M. 1605.

Bolzoni, Lina: *The Gallery of Memory. Literary and Iconographic Models in Age of Printing Press*, Landau 2001.

Cole, Michael: *Cellini and the principles of sculpture*, Cambridge 2002.

Condivi, Ascanio: *Vita di Michelagnolo Buonarotti* (1553), ed. Charles Davis, in: Fontes, 34 (2009).

Fialetti, Odoardo: *Il vero modo et ordine per dissegnar tutte le parti et membra del corpo humano*, Venedig 1608.

Fowler, Caroline: *Between the Heart and the Mind: Ways of Drawing in the Seventeenth Century*, PhD diss., Univ. of Princeton 2012. Fowler, Caroline: *Drawing and Senses. An Early Modern History*, Turnhout 2016.

Fricke, Beate: *Beautiful Genesis. Creation and Procreation in Medieval Art*, chapter "Animation of the Fetus – The Liber Scivias" [manuscript 2015].

Heilmann, Maria, Nino Nanobashvili, Ulrich Pfisterer and Tobias Teutenberg (eds.): *Punkt, Punkt, Komma, Strich. Zeichenbücher in Europa | ca. 1525–1925* (exh. cat.), Passau 2014.

Heilmann, Maria, Nino Nanobashvili, Ulrich Pfisterer and Tobias Teutenberg (eds.): *Lernt Zeichnen! Techniken zwischen Kunst und Wissenschaft | 1525–1925* (exh. cat.), Passau 2015.

Kliemann, Julian: *Bilder für eine Akademie. Die malerische Ausstattung des Palastes unter Federico Zuccari*, in: Kieven, Elisabeth (ed.): *100 Jahre Bibliotheca Hertziana. Der Palazzo Zuccari und die Institutsgebäude 1590–201*3, Munich 2013, II, pp. 138–181.

Krüger, Klaus: *Mimesis und Fragmentation. Körper-Bilder im Cinquecento*, in: Hülsen-Esch, Andrea and Jean-Claude Schmitt (eds.): *Die Methodik der Bildinterpretation*, Göttingen 2002, I, pp. 157–202.

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Kemp, Wolfgang: *"… einen wahrhaft bildenden Zeichenunterricht überall einführen." Zeichnen und Zeichenunterricht der Laien 1500–1870*, Frankfurt a. M. 1979.

in: Lukehart, Peter (ed.): *The Accademia Seminars. The Accademia di San Luca in Rome 1590–1635*, Washington 2009, pp. 197–223.


Reilly, Patricia: *Drawing the line. Benvenuto Cellini's "On principles and method of learning the art of drawing" and the question of amateur drawing education*, in: Gallucci, Margaret Ann and Paolo Rossi (eds.): *Benvenuto Cellini. Sculptor, Goldsmith, Writer*, Cambridge 2004, pp. 26–50.

Rosand, David: *Drawing Acts. Studies in Graphic Expressions and Representation*, Cambridge 2002.

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# The Evidence of Drawing Giovanni Battista Paggi and the Practice of Draftsmanship in Late Sixteenth-Century Italy

Peter M. Lukehart

#### Laying out the evidence

Drawings bear witness to many aspects of the artistic enterprise, from the most basic questions of authorship to the most unfathomable questions of creativity. To introduce one example among many, Guercino's *Three Bathers Surprised by a Monster*,1 c. 1621– 1623, appears to be a chimerical work in pen and black ink inspired by "accidental" ink blots that now form the monster's head at left and the splashing water in the center of the startled women (*» Fig. 1*). Along this flexible and capacious line from attribution to motivating force, we discover that drawings can also attest to every living thing (*ogni cosa creata*),2 from natural phenomena – as in Annibale Carracci's *Landscape with Figures by an Estuary with Sailing Boats* (*» Fig. 2*)3 – to the grim reality of early modern justice – as in Annibale's *Study for an Execution* (*» Fig. 3*)4; or, from the blush of youth –


**Fig. 1** Guercino, *Three Bathers Surprised by a Monster,* Windsor Castle, RCIN 902477, Royal Collection Trust / © HM Queen Elizabeth II 2017.

**Fig.2** Annibale Carracci, *Landscape with Figures by an Estuary with Sailing Boats,* c. 1590/1595, Gift of Mr. and Mrs. David P. Tunick in Honor of the 50th Anniversary of the National Gallery of Art, 1991.17.1.

**1**

**4**

**Fig.3** Annibale Carracci, *An Execution,* Windsor Castle, RCIN 901955, Royal Collection Trust / © HM Queen Elizabeth II 2017.

**3**

**Fig.4** Annibale Carracci, *Anteros Victorious,* 1560–1609, Metropolitan Museum of Art, Pfeiffer Fund, 1962, 62.120.2.

**Fig.5** Anthony Van Dyck, *The painter Sofonisba Anguissola,* leaf from van Dyck's Italian Sketchbook, 1624, British Museum, © Trustees of the British Museum, 1957, 1214.207.110.

as in Annibale's *Anteros Victorious* (*» Fig. 4*) – to the twilight of life – as attested in van Dyck's drawing of the 96-year-old Sofonisba Anguissola from his sketchbook (*» Fig. 5*).5

And that is before we begin exploring the relationships between drawings and text, as one sees in Anthony van Dyck's verbal description and commentary that accompany the portrait of his aging heroine Sofonisba, "avendo la memoria e cervello prontissimo, cortesissima" (possessing a very keen memory and mind, and most courteous), then living in Sicily. Further, we might consider Giovanni Battista Paggi's inscribed drawings from his "quinterni di ricordi di pittura a mano" (notebooks of records of painting by hand) such as the one from the Uffizi (*» Fig. 6*) that enabled me, many years ago, to connect it with an unattributed work in San Gimignano (*» Fig. 7*).6

In the same way, drawings shed light on an artist's working practices from sketch to completed work, as for example in the rapid black chalk preliminary sketch (*»Fig. 8*),


**Fig.6** Giovanni Battista Paggi, *Immaculate Conception,* c. 1590s, Gallerie degli Uffizi, Gabinetto dei Disegni e delle Stampe, lnv. 7303 s.

**Fig.7** Giovanni Battista Paggi, *Immaculate Conception,* c. 1590s, Collegiate Church of San Gimignano, San Gimignano.

now attributed to Annibale Carracci, for the fresco depicting *Jason Meeting King Aeëtes* in the Palazzo Fava, Bologna, from the mid-1580s, followed by, on the recto of the Munich sheet, a complete compositional drawing in brown pen and ink with wash over a faint black underdrawing (*»Fig. 9*). The whole sheet was then squared twice in black and red chalk for transfer to cartoons (lost) that were then laid against wet plaster and incised to guide the painters in the *giornate* they applied in fresco.7 Drawings,

<sup>7</sup> For the drawing of The Meeting of Jason and King Aeëtes by Annibale Carracci, see: Benati/ DeGrazia 1999, cat. 5.

**9**

**Fig.8** Annibale Carracci, *Jason Meeting King Aeëtes,* Staatliche Graphische Sammlung, Munich, Inv. 6823, verso.

**Fig.9** Annibale Carracci, *Jason Meeting King Aeëtes,* Staatliche Graphische Sammlung, Munich, Inv. 6823, recto.

**Fig. 10** Giovanni Battista Paggi, *Pietà,* verso, Gallerie degli Uffizi, Gabinetto dei Disegni e delle Stampe, Inv. 13313 F.

I would argue, can just as easily reveal the artist's economic practices (*»Fig. 10*). Here, the drawing paper seems to be doubling as a ledger entry that documents Paggi's custom (otherwise known only anecdotally from his biographer, Raffaele Soprani) of donating works of art to his clients or patrons. Thus Paggi avoided the appearance of compromising his *casa aperta* (open house) by charging fees for his paintings or by leaving his studio to work in another's home or a public space, a point to which we will return.8

<sup>8</sup> Lukehart 1988, chapter 1, esp. pp. 11–16.

This brief excursus leads us back to first principles, well known to any art historian – even if some of the examples are new – but there is a logic to starting with our most basic assumptions both about what constitutes a drawing and about the different purposes to which they were harnessed in the early modern period. Further, it was necessary to lay out my claims for drawings as forms of evidence9 before proceeding to the more finely grained analysis of Part II. I want to underscore a difference between my use of the word "evidence" and that employed by Klaus Krüger and his colleagues engaged in the investigation of *Bildevidenz*. Rather than communicating or defining "the social, political, and religious realms in which [images] operate," as interesting and important as Krüger's studies are, I am here examining drawings as representations of personal agency or contingency: whether authorship, technique, visual intelligence, or historical circumstances.10 My interests lie instead in the period of ideation that precedes *Bildevidenz*; that is, not the creation of an image meant for a patron or public but a process of creation most often prior to the finished work of art, perhaps one in need of its own neologism, such as *Zeichnungsevidenz* (the evidence of drawing). These concepts are not incompatible or mutually exclusive endeavors; rather, they are sequential.11 In her recent magisterial exhibition, *Michelangelo: Divine Draftsman & Designer*, Carmen C. Bambach charted a new course for the study of Michelangelo's drawings that depends equally on a thorough engagement with contemporary sources, the latest scientific and technical means of analysis, and careful observation.


For the mature Michelangelo and much of his Central Italian culture, the term *disegno* embraced the acts of artistic creation in their widest possible sense. *Disegno* denoted both the physical work on paper and the intellectual conception of an idea.12

Without establishing the author, or as I will argue, authors, the multilayered context of the drawing – and with it the subsequent work of art – remains historically and culturally untethered.

#### Drawings as forensic instruments

In the past several decades, art historians and conservators have been joining forces to study works on paper under varying circumstances, from natural light to raking light, or from macrophotography to Infrared Reflectography (which I will hereafter refer to as IR). Each method or process yields different information that in turn has the ability to shed new light on the kinds and degrees of evidence that drawings offer to art and cultural historians.

If x-rays and magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) have increased physicians' ability to diagnose and treat diseases of and traumas to the human body, so too has IR considerably expanded art historians' understanding and conservators' treatment of paintings, and more recently of drawings. They are and remain tools, of course, but IR introduces new forms of investigation and yields new forms of information that allow us to look beneath the surface of ink and wash to view layers of underdrawing that often reside on the support of sixteenth- and seventeenth-century drawings. These underdrawings are especially apparent beneath iron gall ink drawings with or without wash, such as Paggi's *Immaculate Conception* (*» Fig. 6*).

As Maria Clelia Galassi has recently argued, such drawings became increasingly common in Genoa from the latter decades of the sixteenth through the late seventeenth centuries. IR camera in hand, she and her colleagues, Margherita Priarone and Valentina Frascarolo, have undertaken a systematic study of Genoese drawings from this period, as a result of which new revelations about technique and attribution have emerged. Thus, I want to acknowledge my own indebtedness to their seminal research, without which the current study would not exist.13


**a**

**b**

**Fig. 11 a** Giovanni Battista Paggi, *Ecce Homo,* 1587, Palazzo Rosso, Genoa, Inv. 1780.

**Fig. 11 b** Infrared detail.

Flushed with the implications of their work, I was struck by the frequency with which Giovanni Battista Paggi's (1554–1627) drawings were examined. The creator of innumerable drawings in pen and ink over black chalk (*» Fig. 11a; Fig. 11b*), Paggi could be called one of the earliest and most prolific practitioners of this medium in Genoa. Having studied with Luca Cambiaso as a *giovane* (young boy), Paggi learned to work with pen and ink and chalk, but Cambiaso tended to wield them separately in his oeuvre: he does not seem to have mixed the two as frequently as his students and followers did. Thus, it may be more productive to look for points of origin in the Florentine ambient, where Paggi spent nearly twenty years in exile between about 1581

**Fig. 12** Giorgio Vasari, *The Florentine Victory over Milan,* Gallerie degli Uffizi, Gabinetto dei Disegni e delle Stampe, Inv. 626 F.

and 1599/1600.14 In Florence we see artists using pen, ink, and wash over traces of black chalk from the mid-sixteenth century forward in the drawings of Giorgio Vasari (*»Fig. 12*), and Alessandro Allori (*»Fig. 13*), who worked in Florence when Paggi lived there. This technique continued to be used right through the seventeenth century.

14 Lukehart 1988, chap. 2, pp. 49–111.

**Fig. 13** Alessandro Allori, *Pitcher,* Gallerie degli Uffizi, Gabinetto dei Disegni e delle Stampe, Inv. 716 Orn.

In light of the new infrared reflectograms being made of Genoese drawings, I was intrigued to read the recent article by Frederica Mancini in which she attributes to Paggi a problematic drawing in the Louvre (*» Fig. 14a; 14b*) created in pen, ink, and wash over traces of black chalk, with white heightening – the whole squared for transfer. Previously attributed first to Andrea Ansaldo, then to Orazio Cambiaso, *The Return of Ambrogio di Negro, Who Attends the Unveiling of a Sculpture in His Honor at Palazzo di San Giorgio* served as the model for a fresco of the same subject in the Villa Di Negro Rosazza (*» Fig. 15*) in Genoa, the decorations for which date to the first decade of the seventeenth century. Of these four statements, only one is certain: that the Louvre drawing was the model for the fresco in Villa Di Negro Rosazza. Further, this drawing suggests another way to conceive of the problem of attribution by thinking about it in relation to the lessons that IR has to teach us about artists' underdrawings.

Before exploring a forensic solution to the conundrum of attribution, it is essential to introduce more biographical information about Paggi and the reasons why – regardless of the authorship of the drawings – the frescoes of *The Return of Ambrogio di Negro* (*»Fig. 14a; 14b*) and the *Three Fates* (*»Fig. 16a; 16b*), also a preliminary study for a fresco of the identical subject in the Villa di Negro Rosazza (*»Fig. 17*), could not have been painted by the Genoese artist. As a nobleman who practiced his profession precariously and under intense scrutiny in Genoa, Paggi was expressly prohibited from **b**

**15**

**Fig. 14 a** Giovanni Battista Paggi (?), *The Return of Ambrogio di Negro, Who Attends the Unveiling of a Sculpture in His Honor at Palazzo di San Giorgio,* c. 1600–1610, the Louvre, Département des Arts Graphiques, INV. 4643.

**Fig. 14 b** Infrared.

**Fig. 15** Artist unknown, *The Return of Ambrogio di Negro, Who Attends the Unveiling of a Sculpture in His Honor at Palazzo di San Giorgio,* c. 1600–1610, fresco, Villa di Negro Rosazza, Genoa.

**a**

**a**

**b**

**Fig. 16 a** Giovanni Batista Paggi or Lazzaro Tavarone, *The Three Fates,* c.1600–1610, the Louvre, Département des Arts Graphiques, INV. 12618.

**Fig 16 b** Infrared.

**Fig. 17** Artist unkown, *The Three Fates,* c. 1600–1610, fresco, Villa Di Negro Rosazza, Genoa.

working outside his own open house (*casa aperta*); thus, he could not leave his home to work for anyone.15 Instead, he worked in his studio16 within a *casa grande* near the new gate (Porta Soprana) of the city, making hundreds of drawings and dozens of paintings over the course of his mature career (c. 1600–1627). Similarly, Paggi could not directly accept payment for his paintings, but rather made gifts of his work and accepted gifts in return (*»Fig. 10*). There is much more to be said about this idiosyncratic practice and what it meant for Paggi and for painters in early modern Genoa. For our purposes it is sufficient to underscore such strictures that preclude his having compromised his nobility by venturing out to the Villa di Negro to dirty his hands with plaster and paint. More to the point, he did not want to be seen working publicly for any patron.

Faced with these conflicting narratives: 1) attributing to Paggi a drawing of the *Three Fates* (*» Fig. 16a*) related to the decoration of the Villa di Negro, and 2), allowing for the reality of his sacrosanct *casa aperta*, Mary Newcome suggested that the artist painted the fresco in his studio and then had the work transported across town where it was immured by other artists or artisans who had no such qualms about mechanical

16 See Frascarolo/Vignola 2016, pp. 16–33.

<sup>15</sup> Lukehart 1988, pp. 11–16, 147–160; for my previous discussion of the drawings for the frescoes in the villa Di Negro Rosazza in Genoa, see pp. 155–156 and note 107.

work (as fresco painting was then considered in Genoa).17 Whereas I understand Newcome's conviction that the squared preliminary drawing in the Louvre is by Paggi's hand, this is an elaborate workaround for the social constraints under which Paggi practiced. What I would like to propose is a somewhat less convoluted solution, which I will now lay out.

#### The evidence of drawing

Starting with the drawing of *The Return of Ambrogio di Negro* (*»Fig.14a*), I was initially compelled by Mancini's argument because, like her, I detected stylistic affinities to the work of Paggi, as, for example, in the *Madonna and Child in Glory with Saints* (*»Fig. 18a*): dark ovular eye sockets, open mouths, long, loopy fingers, among others to adopt a Morellian argument. And yet, some things were not right, particularly the handling of the shading and hatching lines, which terminate in small blots or in weakly curved movements of the pen. Whereas Paggi made long contour lines and crisp, parallel shading lines that tend to hook toward the right at one end and to the left at the other, the artist who executed the pen lines on top of the black chalk underdrawing (*»Fig.18b*)18 on the Louvre sheet made very simple straight or crude curves and rough strokes to indicate a knee, a bend in the armor, or an epaulette. The one exception to this non-Paggi hand can be observed in the figure of the young boy with the dog in shadow at the base of the column where di Negro turns to view his sculptured likeness. The boy is very much in keeping with Paggi's pen work, from the physiognomy to the angled shading lines.

In contrast to the Louvre sheet, the National Gallery of Art's drawing bears witness to Paggi's use of black chalk underdrawing as a means to work rapidly and fluidly before fixing the composition of the figures with pen and ink. The manner of handling the various media also fits neatly into Vasari's definition of the *schizzo*, here identified with the black chalk underdrawing, and the *disegno*, which would accord with the more refined and finished compositional study in pen and ink.19 Filippo Baldinucci's *Vocabolario Toscano dell'arte del disegno* defines the *schizzo* as a drawing executed in "very light (rapid) touches of pen or chalk with which one establishes one's ideas with-

<sup>17</sup> Newcome 1995, pp. 18–19 and 21 n. 31.

<sup>18</sup> Infrared image capture, "J" filter (1.1–1.4 microns), Santa Barbara Focal Plane ImagIR LC InSb camera, October 2016. Infrared reflectogram composite, Adobe Photoshop assembly, National Gallery of Art Painting Conservation Department.

<sup>19</sup> The concepts of *schizzo*, *disegno*, and *cartone* have a long history in art-historical literature. For a particularly perceptive overview of Vasari's vocabulary of drawing, see Bambach 2012. See also Rosand 2002, pp. 53–54, with reference especially to Leonardo.

**Fig. 18 a** Giovanni Battista Paggi, *Madonna and Child in Glory with Saints,* 1600–1610, National Gallery of Art, DC, Alisa Mellon Bruce Fund 2004.132.2.

**Fig. 18 b** Infrared reflectogram composite, National Gallery of Art Painting Conservation Department.

out bringing all parts to completion."20 The *disegno*, by contrast, is meant to create a sense of relief and as a step that precedes painting (*colorire*).21 In Paggi's black chalk


sketch (*» Fig. 18b*) there are multiple contours for the figures (including a pentimento in the position of the Virgin's head) and several suggestions of how draperies should fall. Once Paggi (and here I believe the same artist is responsible for both the underdrawing and the upper layers of pen and ink) returns with the pen in his *disegno*  (*» Fig. 18a*), he reinforces the outlines of his figures, establishes the flow of the drapery, adds more putti to the celestial host surrounding the Madonna and Child, and regularizes the shading with his signature hooked lines. Everything in the *Madonna and Child in Glory with Saints* bespeaks Paggi's use of media and his particular hand.

There is thus a difference between the drawing at the Louvre and those found in the National Gallery, the Uffizi, and the Palazzo Rosso, a disconnect between the underdrawing and the upper layers of pen, ink, and wash. I would like to suggest that the reasons for that anomaly are relatively easy to resolve: *The Return of Ambrogio di Negro* was, I contend, executed by two different hands: the underdrawing in black chalk can be assigned to Paggi; the pen, ink, and wash to another artist, possibly Andrea Ansaldo or Orazio Cambiaso as others have argued (or possibly another artist yet to be identified), and that this second artist was also responsible for squaring the drawing and likely painting the fresco on the wall of the Villa Di Negro (*» Fig. 17*), where the relation to Paggi's style is not at all apparent.22 My reasons for believing this are twofold: on the one hand, Paggi could well have been asked to provide the idea for fresco, but knew that his social status would be compromised if he were to work outside his home; he therefore entrusted the actual commission for painting the fresco to another colleague who was not forced to live under the stringent laws governing nobility. On the other hand, there are the stylistic reasons summarized above.

In much the same way as the above examples, scholars have shuttled the preliminary drawings for *La Gloria di Colombo* (*»Fig. 19; Fig. 20*) between Lazaro Tavarone (Mary Newcome) and Paggi (Piero Boccardo).23 This *schizzo* from the Galata, which could well be by Paggi, is like the work of a scientist where the text and the drawing are

investigation here: sketching with chalk and then reinforcing contours with a pen and adding wash. It has certainly been observed in the study of drawings, but not reinforced or described in contemporary written sources (to my knowledge).


#### The Evidence of Drawing 71

**19**

**20**

**Fig. 19** Giovanni Battista Paggi (?), *La Gloria di Colombo,* c. 1600–1610, schizzo, "Codice dei privilegi di Cristoforo Colombo", Galata Museo del Mare, Genoa.

**Fig.20** Giovanni Battista Paggi and/or Lazzaro Tavarone, *La Gloria di Colombo,* c. 1600–1610, Palazzo Rosso, Genoa, Inv. D 3141.

all generated from a single pen and ink source. There is a seamlessness between one form of graphic expression and the other without the intervention of a black chalk underdrawing. I have not yet seen an IR of the *disegno* housed in the Palazzo Rosso (*»Fig. 20*), but careful personal examination of the drawing suggests to me that there are again two hands: one for the black chalk underdrawing and another for the upper layers in pen and ink. Whereas the facial expressions, and the tightly curled hair of the allegorical figures (particularly Tolerance at front left) resemble Paggi's style, the lack of hooked shading lines and the slightly elongated proportions of the figures suggest a hand other than Paggi's. To my eye, the *Glory of Columbus* (*»Fig. 19*) resembles the penwork of the *The Three Fates* (*»Fig. 16a*), now thought by Newcome to be Paggi, but by me to be Tavarone, who likely also executed the fresco of the same subject (*»Fig. 17*).24 And, in fact, Tavarone is known to have painted two Columbus cycles in fresco, one in the Villa Saluzzo Bombrini and the other in the Palazzo De Ferrari Belimbau, c. 1630s.

With just a few examples of IR photographs and a limited discussion of their implications, I put these arguments forward as hypotheses deserving far deeper analysis and a closer look than has heretofore been possible. Further, I am fully aware that most previous discussions of multiple hands in a single drawing have tended to argue that there are qualitative differences that can be resolved by assignment to a master and a pupil. Here, I want to suggest instead that Paggi handed off his *schizzi* to an equally respected artist who would be responsible for completing the pen and ink *disegno* and likely executing them in fresco (see below).

Before concluding, I would like to place my discussion into the larger context of this volume. One of the things that struck me in the months leading up to the Munich symposium is that the multistep process of working first in black chalk, and then coming back to fix the composition, the figural positions, as well as the light and shadow with pen and ink, brush and wash – and sometimes white heightening – is by and large the work of the professional class of artists working in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. One very particular way in which drawing and writing are not identical processes is that most writing is done freehand on the page without preliminary lines in other media (except perhaps a rule line to keep the writing in parallel rows and evenly spaced). It is thus rare that dilettantes and amateurs who use pen and ink do so over a chalk underdrawing.25 To take one prominent example, Galileo Galilei (1564–1642) in his notebooks (*» Fig. 21*) and his illustrations intended to be transferred into prints

<sup>24</sup> See the Louvre catalogue entry by Frederica Mancini, who, in personal communication (February 2017), expressed concern about the proportions of the figures, a point with which I agree. This pen and ink drawing as well as that for the *Gloria di Cristoforo Colombo* (Genoa, Palazzo Rosso) do not fit well within Paggi's autograph works. The same figural exaggerations exist in the completed fresco of *The Three Fates* (*» Fig. 17*).

<sup>25</sup> Whereas Vincenzo Borghini's drawing (Petrioli Tofani 2008, cat. 38: Study for a fountain, c. 1565) for the marriage of Francesco and Giovanna d'Austria bespeaks his use of pen and ink over black chalk, Galileo's lunar landscape (*» Fig. 21*) does not.

**Fig.21** Galileo Galilei, MS. Gal. 48, fol. 28r, Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale di Firenze.

apparently worked solely with pen, ink, and wash. On one hand, the notebook drawings would presumably have been completed all of one piece (like the Columbus codex mentioned earlier): Galileo wrote his notes and made his observational sketches with the same materials and equipment. Yet, as far as I can tell without having worked with a microscope or IR, none of his finished *disegni* displays a chalk underdrawing. There is clear evidence that he used a compass to create the circumference of the moon or the sun, but unless he used an imperceptible medium such as metalpoint to plot out the location of mountain ridges or sunspots, it looks rather that he worked freehand.26 It makes his accomplishments all that much more remarkable, but, I argue, also consistent with the creations of his amateur colleagues in the early modern period.

These new scientific means of studying drawing provide ever more abundant – and more sophisticated – forms of information about the media and the application of lines to a flat surface. Further, we have more ways to establish specific hands and ticks in the handling of materials; that is, more ways of adducing and evaluating evidence. Even as we now have additional answers – about the hands of artists or the chronology of creation – we simultaneously generate more questions. For example, if Paggi were responsible for the ideation of the compositional black chalk *schizzi* (which in turn became underdrawings) for frescoes, such as the *Return of Ambrogio Di Negro* or the *Three Fates*, we would still have to determine who, then, worked up the pen, ink, and wash *disegni*, as well as the squaring for transfer. In many cases, there is the related problem of a lack of consensus on who executed the actual frescoes.

Similarly, if we return to the drawing of *Jason Meeting King Aeëtes* attributed to Annibale Carracci (*» Fig. 9*), we see traces of black chalk underdrawing with the naked eye, notably in the spears and halberds carried by the sailors. The attributions of early Carracci drawings are notoriously fraught, not least because the cousins themselves are said to have insisted that there were no differences between them: "It is by the Carracci, we all did it."27 In the examples where they were using chalk underdrawing, might we – with the aid of IR and other techniques – soon be able to detect individual hands in the *schizzo* and the *disegno* in pen and wash? And, going back several more decades into the sixteenth century, might these techniques also help us to understand Vasari's method of working with teams of artists on enormous projects, such as those for the decoration of the Palazzo Vecchio?28

<sup>26</sup> The most complete art-historical account of Galileo's lunar and solar studies remains Bredekamp 2007. Even so, there is little discussion of Galileo's drawing media, and few of the illustrations list more than pen, ink, and wash. See also, Schlitt 2016.

<sup>27</sup> See Feigenbaum 1993; for the quotation from Carlo Cesare Malvasia, see p. 70.

<sup>28</sup> I am reminded here of the perceptive work of Annamaria Petrioli Tofani on Vasari and his workshop, which she presented in her colloquium, "The Role of Drawing in the Sixteenth-Century Decoration of the Palazzo Vecchio: Vasari and His Colleagues and Followers," at the Center for Advanced Study in the Visual Arts in April 2006 (A précis can be found in Petrioli Tofani 2006). Some of her ideas find further expression in her essay and catalog entries for the

For Paggi, who also directed a relatively large studio in Genoa, the stakes of authorship were unique and markedly different: since he could not leave his home to perform labor in the house of another, the preliminary sketch served as a work-around to the laws governing nobility. Even if he could not paint frescoes, he could nonetheless provide compositional ideas and iconographic programs. These newly observed Genoese underdrawings – in studies by Valentina Frascarolo, Maria Clelia Galassi, Frederica Mancini, Margherita Priarone, as well as the present author – attest to Paggi's artistic creativity and clever juridical strategizing. The *schizzi* could be handed off to an executant artist who did not have to comply with the *Leges novae* of Genoa to maintain a *casa aperta*.29 Based on the proportions, retardataire choice of colors, and pronounced contours, the draftsmen responsible for the pen, ink, and wash drawings that cover – to varying degrees – the chalk underdrawings likely also painted the related fresco. I hasten to add that these subsequent artists were probably not students or apprentices, but Paggi's peers who openly practiced their profession as a "mechanical" rather than a liberal art. In fact, Paggi made a point of only bringing *giovani sotto padre* (young boys under their fathers' care) into his studio for lessons: they were there to learn the practices of drawing and painting and were not allowed to do manual labor or work for hire while under his tutelage.30

The evidence of drawing depends, therefore, not only on connoisseurship and familiarity with artists' hands, but also on technical, documentary, historical, social, and economic research, among many other factors. As David Rosand averred in *Drawing Acts*: drawing is a "fundamental pictorial act." I would like to extend that active image of draftsmanship to include a potential network of artists from the *schizzo* to the squared *disegno*, to the *cartone*, to the painted decoration. The examples shared in this study point to a richer, more nuanced process of drawing that extends from ideation to execution in another medium. If the forensic capabilities of IR and other investigative techniques have introduced new complexities and ambiguities concerning the various hands engaged in making a multilayered drawing, they may simultaneously help us formulate better-informed questions – and answers – concerning authorship and practice in the early modern period.

exhibition at the Morgan Library: Petrioli Tofani 2008, pp. xiii–xviii; in the section devoted to Vasari's drawings (pp. 55–79) virtually every pen and ink drawing is made on top of black chalk underdrawing. The same holds true for many in his team at the Palazzo Vecchio and elsewhere: see, for example, Stradanus's The Triumph of the Florentine Army after Taking Siena (cat. 40, pp. 88–89) of c. 1563–1565.

30 Lukehart 1993; and Lukehart 1988, pp. 161–185.

<sup>29</sup> Doria/Savelli 1980.

I am profoundly indebted to Valentina Frascarolo, Maria Clelia Galassi, Frederica Mancini, and Marghertia Priarone for graciously sharing their publications (and pre-publications) as well as their knowledge of Genoese drawing practice with me. In addition, they were enormously generous in supplying images. For their inspirational writings and wise counsel, I would like to thank Carmen C. Bambach, Mauro Mussolin, and Melinda Schlitt. In addition, Babette Bohn made incisive comments that helped to anchor my study technically and historically. My colleagues, Michelle Facini, Greg Jecman, and Doug LaChance provided important assistance with regard to the creation and study of the IR photography of the drawing by G.B. Paggi in the National Gallery of Art's collection. In Genoa, I benefited from conversations with Piero Boccardo at the Palazzo Rosso. Further, I am grateful to the very welcoming staff of Galata, Museo del Mare, in Genoa for facilitating my visit to study and for arranging the photography of an important drawing from the Codice dei Privilegi. For her unstinting support with securing photographs and bibliography, I am grateful to Silvia Tita. Finally, I have enjoyed working with – and learning from – Ulrich Pfisterer and the conference organizers, Nino Nanobashvili and Tobias Teutenberg.

#### Bibliography


#### Galassi, Maria Clelia and Margherita Priarone (eds.): *L'underdrawing del disegno genovese: Dentro la genesi dell'opera grafica attraverso l'esame nell'infrarosso,* Genoa 2014.


# Forming a Common Language The Teaching of Drawing in the Habsburg Empire from 1850

Alexander Klee

*Translation:* Rebecca Law

In the second half of the nineteenth century, society in the Habsburg Empire underwent a complete transformation.1 During this period, the impact of industrialization could be felt and a systematic, empirical approach emerged in the natural sciences. At the same time, the concept of the nation state was evolving and the importance of the middle classes had increased in society.

The development of the states that would go on to form the German Empire in 1871 was completely different from the development of the Habsburg Empire. The latter was a vast multilingual territorial state that had arisen from feudal systems of rule. Consequently, forming an identity, which in Germany occurred through the language, was a far more complex process in the Habsburg Empire. One of the pillars in this process was education with a special emphasis on mathematics, a cosmopolitan language in which visual geometry was capable of explaining complex relationships based, for example, on the simple shape of the triangle. Transferred to art lessons, this entailed teaching drawing through a focus on mathematics and geometry, which was a key aspect in the pedagogy of the philosopher Johann Friedrich Herbart. Art curricula based on Herbart's teachings were mandatory at the various school types throughout the Habsburg Empire. As a result, approaches to art, and by extension ways of looking at art in the Habsburg Empire, differed significantly from the idealist theories that predominated in German countries.2 This difference, scarcely acknowledged today, was widely known in around 1900. Speaking about art history in his inaugural speech at the *k. k. technische Hochschule* in Vienna in 1902, Friedrich Jodl outlined the essential characteristics:

<sup>1</sup> This article expands on the educational aspects first explored in: Klee 2016.

<sup>2</sup> Cf. Klee 2017.

If Hegel's aesthetics, in a way that is again proclaimed today as the most modern wisdom, had placed the main emphasis on the idea, the inner significance of the content that emerges in the artwork's sensory appearance, Herbart, on the other hand, has found the other point of view without which current academic art theory would be inconceivable: the significance of form as a particular way of connecting and structuring sensory content, the realization that the impact of an artwork, quite apart from what it lets us experience as a thought, is essentially conditioned by a number of elemental pleasing effects arising from its formal language, from the composition of its sensory expressive means. Of course, this realization was expressed by Herbart and the most important direct follower of his aesthetic theories Robert Zimmermann, still remembered in Vienna as a sensitive art connoisseur and expert, in a very abstract way, alienated from artistic life in practice.3

These observations raise an issue that has been largely ignored by art history until now: the influence of the professionalization of schools and teaching practices in the Habsburg Empire in the second half of the nineteenth century upon art in this period and into the twentieth century.

In the nineteenth century there was a growing need in the Habsburg Empire, as in other regions, for a trained and more specialized workforce. A basic prerequisite for this was a more educated population. The *Realschule* evolved in response to these new demands in the empire. Starting in around the mid-1850s, it developed under Thun-Hohenstein's ministry from a school with an emphasis on the vocational into a model for other types of schools. The teaching of drawing played a very prominent role. After intensive discussion, both free-hand drawing and geometric drawing were given key importance in the curriculum at *Realschulen*. Today this may come as a surprise, in view of the current meager allocation of art lessons, yet from a purely educational point of view it made sense.

3 Jodl 1902, p. 39: "Wenn die Hegel'sche Aesthetik in einer Weise, die heute wieder als modernste Weisheit verkündet wird, das Hauptgewicht auf die Idee, auf die innere Bedeutsamkeit des Inhaltes gelegt hatte, der im Kunstwerk zur sinnlichen Erscheinung kommt, so hat dagegen Herbart den anderen Gesichtspunkt gefunden, ohne den wir uns heute keine wissenschaftliche Kunstlehre denken können: die Bedeutsamkeit der Form als einer bestimmten Weise der Verknüpfung und Gliederung sinnlicher Inhalt, die Einsicht, daß die Wirkung eines Kunstwerkes, ganz abgesehen von dem, was es uns als Gedanke erleben läßt, wesentlich bedingt ist durch eine Anzahl von elementaren Wirkungen des Gefallens, die aus seiner Formensprache, aus der Gestaltung seiner sinnlichen Ausdrucksmittel hervorgehen. Dieser Erkenntnis ist freilich bei Herbart und auch bei dem wichtigsten unmittelbaren Fortbilder seiner ästhetischen Gedanken, bei dem in Wien als feinsinniger Kunstfreund und Kunstkenner noch unvergessenen Robert Zimmermann, in sehr abstrakter Form aufgetreten und dadurch der Berührung mit der Praxis des künstlerischen Lebens entfremdet worden."

The pedagogy of Johann Friedrich Herbart was important in this respect. Like the contemporaneous endeavors of Johann Heinrich Pestalozzi and Friedrich Fröbel, Herbart developed his ideas from a mathematical understanding of the world in which everything could be presented in a geometric, mathematical way. For Herbart this was based around the triangle, which pupils had to master in free-hand drawing as well as in geometry lessons.

Herbart's philosophy opposed German idealism,4 with Hegel's philosophy and the Hegel school being the object of particular criticism.5 In contrast to the rest of the German-speaking region, particularly Prussia, where, in the first half of the nineteenth century, the philosophical views of Kant and Hegel had taken root and gained a widespread following, in the Habsburg Empire these ideas were roundly attacked, with Bernard Bolzano leading the charge.6 Bolzano's philosophical views were aligned with Herbart's in many respects. In fact, we should really speak of a Bolzano-Herbartian philosophy, as many supporters and students of Bolzano, including Exner and Zimmermann, were champions of Herbartianism.7 Moreover, the banning of Kant's and Hegel's theories throughout the Habsburg Monarchy further intensified a development that was genuinely Austrian and was not confined solely to philosophy. The philosophy of both Bolzano and Herbart shows a close affinity with Leibniz. An intensive study of Leibniz's teachings is also demonstrated in the writings of Franz Serafin Exner and Robert Zimmermann.8 Leibniz's theories argue that of all the potential worlds, the existing one is best and any change would only worsen the situation. This conformed to the Neoabsolutist views of the Habsburg Empire in the same way that Leibniz's explanation of the world through mathematics echoed the intentions and opinions of both Herbart and Bolzano.9 Mathematics reflected a universal and cosmopolitan worldview and so could not be exploited for nationalist aims. In a multi-ethnic state like the Habsburg Empire, it was a language that could be universally understood and therefore a constant,10 which, unlike the philosophy of Hegel and Kant, could not be reinterpreted to serve national interests.11

The dominance of Herbart's theories in Austria, both before and after 1848, ultimately resulted in his philosophy becoming so universal that he is often dubbed the official philosopher of the Habsburg Empire, without ever having actually taught there.12 The stronghold of Herbartianism became Prague, where the groundwork had


<sup>4</sup> Bauer 1966.

been laid by Bernard Bolzano.13 It was Prague's professor of philosophy Franz Serafin Exner who finally paved the way for the educational reforms after joining the Ministry of Culture and Education, established following the 1848/49 Revolution, where he worked under Minister Leo von Thun-Hohenstein.14 Exner's students included important Herbartians such as František Čupr, Josef Durdík,15 Eduard Hanslick, Gustav Adolf Lindner,16 Franz Karl Lott,17 Joseph Wilhelm Náhlovsky, Wilhelm Fridolin Volkmann, and Robert Zimmermann, the man who would dominate Austrian philosophy for over thirty-five years at the University of Vienna.18 At the same time it was Exner who, by appointing Herbartians, consolidated the influence of Herbart's philosophy and pedagogy in the Habsburg Monarchy, and on various occasions took a bold stance against the Hegel school.19

The consequences of this dominance of Herbart's theories can be seen in drawing lessons that used trigonometry to develop basic visual skills and to help recognize how the world is ordered.20 The pupil was tasked with understanding the principle of standardized triangles (»*Figs. 1, 2, 3*) and internalizing their forms so as to acquire the ability of pure seeing.21

In order to gain a clear overview of the number and variety of forms, Herbart omitted the teaching of perspective to focus instead on the surface,22 formed out of triangular components, the elementary shapes.23

These demands made by Herbart were met in free-hand drawing lessons. The objective was not simply to reproduce things, such as a tree, a house etc., but to master a basic geometric vocabulary in drawing. Forms were created by building on triangles, paying special attention to the planar, often ornamental basic visual vocabulary. Just as an alphabet is the basis for communication in language, used for making words into sentences and ultimately producing language and literature, planar geometry derived from the triangle was the basis for pictorial communication, resulting in a common 'language of images'. Gustav Adolf Lindner described this aspect of drawing in his article *ABC der Anschauung:*


**Fig. 1** Plate XIV from *Die geometrische Formenlehre* (Fialkowski 1864).

**Fig.2** Plate XXV from *Das geometrische Ornament* (Anděl 1876).

**Fig.3** Plate 46 from *Elementar-Zeichenschule* (Grandauer 1878).

The language of perception and drawing, which serves it, is a cosmopolitan means of human understanding as much as music. While words and writing are conventional signs invented by humanity and only understood by those to whom their meaning has been explained, the notes of music and their interrelationships and the lines of drawing, in their no less harmonious combinations, are a language in which nature speaks to us directly – a language that can be understood in Philadelphia and Beijing just as well as in Berlin and Paris.24

This mathematics-based education taught that geometric shapes are the basis of beautiful form and thus conveyed an aesthetic that sees complex structures as a framework of interrelating forms and their ratios.25

Gustav Adolf Lindner also followed these ideas with his proposal to base the 'rational' teaching of drawing at elementary level on the triangle.26 Lindner, one of the most influential Herbartians in the Habsburg Empire, referred to this as "a method based on the principles of science, namely on mathematics and psychology."27

Herbart's aims in this mathematics-based approach to teaching drawing were to reaffirm the world and its order, a world in which ultimately the individual would meekly toe the line. This served the interests of the Neoabsolutist Habsburg Monarchy and corresponded with the reforms of the Ministry of Culture and Education. Teaching drawing, therefore, was not only concerned with fostering artistic and intellectual skills but also with manifesting a particular worldview.28

It was therefore possible to compile non-representational compositions out of representational forms. Art thus arose out of the composition of aesthetic forms and was not confined to content. In the words of Robert Zimmermann: "As only forms can absolutely please or displease, art is required in its expressions of the spirit to focus on form, and so in meeting this requirement all art is by necessity *Formkunst.*"29


**Fig.4** Josef Hoffmann, vase with handles and glass insert, 1904/05, galvanized and perforated iron, painted white, 11.8 x 3.7 x 3.7 cm; execution: Wiener Werkstätte, Ernst Ploil collection.

*Formkunst* differed from the concept of abstraction as – strictly speaking – abstraction entailed the simplification of an object's appearance. This means that the artist gradually pared down the image of a house, for instance, usually in many stages, to produce simplified forms. The development towards abstraction reflected a move towards both a culmination and a conclusion. *Formkunst*, furthermore, was not a development towards a higher plane, nor a sudden awakening, but a means of communication.

*Formkunst* does not necessarily move towards abstraction but, in fact, works in the opposite direction: it starts with the form, i.e. the non-objective, but can, at any time, be manifested in the representational image – although this is not necessarily the case. The basic structures of *Formkunst* can be generally taught and learned. Non-objective art is therefore not the invention of a modern artist genius but the outcome of an educational approach in the mid-nineteenth century. Art or, more precisely, drawing lessons at the Habsburg Empire's schools were 'only' a means of communication and are rooted in historical tradition. The geometry in Czech Cubism and the all-embracing design of the Wiener Werkstätte also aimed to shape an aesthetic sensibility (»*Figs. 4, 5*).

**Fig.5** Pavel Janák, crystal-shaped box, 1911 (copy by Ján Terray, 2001), stoneware, height 9 cm, execution: Graniton, Rydl & Thon Svijany Podolí commissioned by Artěl, The Museum of Decorative Arts in Prague.

The language of forms, conveying relations based on basic geometric shapes, is completely in line with the concept behind educating people and the communication of a comprehensible worldview.

A new and as yet unestablished type of school, the pioneering *Realschulen* in the Habsburg Empire were subject to frequent scrutiny. As a way of assessing the situation in Austria and considering possibilities for improvement, comparisons were drawn with schools in other countries, such as Prussia. One of the critical observers was Joseph-Adolf Auspitz, head of the *k. k. Oberrealschule* in Brünn (Brno). In 1856, Auspitz compared three *Realschulen* in Prussia – Hannover, Cologne, and Elberfeld – with the Austrian system. As in Austria, at the time they were all six-year schools, the lessons in the curriculum distributed across the classes. The comparison revealed the importance that the Habsburg Empire's *Realschulen* attached to manual drawing skills and to training an understanding of mathematical, abstract spatial constructions (*» Fig. 6*).

Joseph-Adolf Auspitz30 noted:

In general, it can be seen from the table that at Austrian Realschulen a great deal more time and attention is devoted to scientific subjects than humanist education while at the German Realschulen the opposite situation exists. There are fifty-two drawing lessons a week through all six years at Austrian

30 Cf. Klee 2017, pp. 46–49.


**Fig.6** Joseph-Adolf Auspitz, Timetable of Austrian Realschulen compared with the timetables of German Realschulen (Auspitz 1857, p. 20).

Realschulen while at foreign institutions a maximum of eighteen lessons are devoted to the same subject.31

The success of the *Realschulen* and their teaching system increased their standing and also brought about change.

Greater attention was given to drawing. The emphasis on geometry in free-hand drawing and geometric drawing is directly related to Herbart's pedagogy and a rational philosophy based on mathematical relations. The ability to represent these relations in drawing should help pupils understand them conceptually. From today's perspective, however, it is still astonishing that free-hand drawing was a mandatory subject needed to progress to the next class. A student who did not demonstrate adequate ability in this subject was not allowed to move up to the next grade.32 Drawing was therefore not regarded as some special gift, but an acquired, trained skill, a form of communication.

It emerged that the *Realschulen* were not only very popular but also released previously untapped potential. In order to foster this, *Realschulen* were institutionally aligned with the *Gymnasien* or high schools. This went hand in hand with an increase in the number of school years. At the end of 1869, the number of grades at *Realschulen* rose from six to seven and students had the opportunity to take the high school-leaving examination (*matura*). This meant that after secondary vocational schools, students were now eligible for technical colleges.33

In 1873, the *Realschulen* success story prompted34 the Ministry of Culture and Education to introduce the free-hand drawing curriculum to other schools as well.35 With the exception of the *Obergymnasien*, this subject became mandatory and was required for progression to the next class across the board at elementary, secondary, and vocational schools and was also introduced at teacher training colleges. In order to further professionalize drawing tuition, a four-year curriculum was envisaged for

31 "Ueberhaupt ist es aus der Tabelle ersichtlich, daß bei den österreichischen Realschulen vielmehr Zeit und viel mehr Aufmerksamkeit den Realgegenständen gewidmet wird, als den zur humanistischen Ausbildung dienenden; während bei den deutschen Realschulen das umgekehrte Verhältnis obwaltet. So wird bei den österreichischen Realschulen das Zeichnen in allen sechs Klassen durch 52 Stunden wöchentlich betrieben, während bei den fremden Anstalten demselben Gegenstande nur 18 Stunden in maximum gewidmet sind." Auspitz 1857, pp. 16–21, p. 20.

 1874 curriculum for a boys' school with eight grades (by decree of the Minister of Education from May 18, 1874. Z. 6549), Vienna 1874, p. 20.


elementary school drawing teachers36 and art teachers at other schools had to complete three years of training at a special college.37

Consequently, drawing lessons modeled on the *Realschulen* were also introduced at the *Volks- und Bürgerschulen* (elementary and lower secondary schools). Whereas the *Volksschule* provided a six-year broad basic education including drawing, the eightgrade *Bürgerschulen* aimed to provide a higher standard of education. The importance ascribed to free-hand drawing is revealed even in the number of lessons allocated to this subject. While in first grade, the priority was mastering the language of instruction, drawing lessons were seen as extremely important throughout. In the final school year, drawing even became the main subject with the highest number of lessons (*»Fig. 7*).

At the high schools, the *Realgymnasien* and *Gymnasien*, art lessons were also modeled on the successful system of free-hand drawing at the *Realschulen* (although these were still not mandatory at *Gymnasien* in 1873; *»Fig. 8*).

Its importance as a subject is again demonstrated by the number of lessons, which over a period of fifty years almost matched the number of lessons allotted to the language of instruction, the first foreign language, and mathematics. This is documented by a 1905 *Festschrift* (commemorative publication) produced by the first *k. k. Staatsrealschule* in Vienna's second district. As virtually every school grade had four drawing lessons, these would have formed a major part of pupils' schooling.

This is clearly reflected by the *k. k.* monarchy's multiple artistic talents and many influential teachers. By way of example, I should like to cite teachers working in Munich and its environs around 1900. For instance, there was the highly successful school of Anton Ažbe, a *k. k.* Austrian from modern-day Slovenia. Contemporary reports hailed his school as the largest and most famous private art school in Munich and it continued to exist long after Ažbe's death in 1905. Similarly, the *k. k.* Austrian Heinrich Knirr ran a painting school in Munich as well as teaching at its Academy of Fine Arts. He was from Pančevo, the Banat military border, today in Serbia.38

Another example is Simon Hollosy, a *k. k.* Hungarian, who taught in Munich after attending Budapest's drawing school through the years 1875–1878. After completing his studies in Munich, Hollosy founded a highly successful school for painters in 1886 and was the spiritus rector of the artist colony in Nagybánya.39 Then there is Hans von Hayek from Vienna, who ran a painting school in Dachau near Munich and, last but not least, Adolf Hölzel and his school. Hölzel was also a native *k. k.* Austrian and hailed from the town Olomouc in Moravia, today in the Czech Republic.

<sup>36</sup> Ministerium für Cultus und Unterricht 1873, pp. 529–531.

<sup>37</sup> Ministerium für Cultus und Unterricht 1873. At Hungarian high schools, free-hand drawing had been mandatory since 1871, although, as the drawing school in Budapest was founded that same year, it took sometime before there was sufficient trained staff available. (Iván 1882, p. 56). Cf. Klee 2016, p. 28.

<sup>38</sup> Cf. Klee 2017a, pp. 50–51.

<sup>39</sup> Sármány-Parsons 1999, p. 14.

**Fig.7** Lehrplan der achtklassigen Bürgerschule für Knaben (Timetable for eight graders (boys) of the Bürgerschule), Wien 1874. The curriculum also applied to eight-grade *Volksschulen*, which should attain the educational goals where possible. Independent *Bürgerschulen* with three grades must follow the curriculum for grades 6, 7, and 8 from the eight-grade *Bürgerschulen* (by decree of the Minister of Education from May 18, 1874. Z. 6549.).


**Fig.8** Comparative compilation of the curricula from 1870, 1879 and 1898 (Kaller 1905).

This high density of teachers from the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy40 and their success is hardly surprising considering the progressive approach to teaching drawing in the Habsburg Empire, unique in its training methods and intensity.41 This pedagogy that placed an emphasis on formal questions and exercises can also provide the key to explaining and understanding the Ažbe School's "Kugelprinzip" (principle of the sphere) and its theory of form.42 It therefore comes as no surprise that both Ažbe and Hölzel ultimately opened up avenues to their students that could lead them to an abstract pictorial approach. This occurred in a similar fashion and at the same time as Cézanne's approach to painting, often seen as the source for a new art based on form and for Cubism in particular. This artistic development cannot be explained through style alone with reference to artistic contacts and correlations (Jugendstil, Fauvism, Cubism). It also arose from the teaching of drawing that was a central part of education in the Habsburg Empire. In this way, the educational system of the imperial-and-royal monarchy had a significant influence, both directly and indirectly, on classic modern art and on art in the years after 1900.43


<sup>40</sup> Gabriel von Hackl, Anton Hermann Ritter von Stadler, Director of Munich's Academy of Art, Robert Poetzelberger and his stepbrother Leo Putz all deserve a mention here as well.

<sup>41</sup> Husslein-Arco/Klee 2016.

### Bibliography


*Österreichische Wissenschaftsgeschichte 1848– 1938*, Bielefeld 2010.


#### Ministerium für Cultus und Unterricht:


Sauer, Werner: *Die verhinderte Kanttradition: Über eine Eigenheit der österreichischen Philosophie*, in: Benedikt, Michael, Reinhold Knoll and Josef Rupitz (eds.): *Verdrängter Humanismus – verzögerte Aufklärung*, vol. 3, Vienna 1995, pp. 303–317.


#### 96 Alexander Klee

*Eine Dokumentation zur Geschichte des Denkens und der Erziehung in der Donaumonarchie*, Vienna 1975.

#### Wögerbauer, Josef: *Schulnachrichten*, in: *Dritter Jahres-Bericht der k. k. Oberrealschule in Salzburg*, Salzburg 1869, pp. 74–84.

Zimmermann, Robert von: *Allgemeine Aesthetik als Formwissenschaft*, 2 vols., Vienna 1865.

# "You Have to Draw with More Attention, More Dedication" The Relevance of Drawing for Artistic Education at the Academy of Fine Arts Munich and its Significance in International Contexts

Johannes Kirschenmann and Caroline Sternberg

Throughout the Age of Enlightenment in Europe in the late eighteenth century, radical changes occurred in the understanding of art.1 From then on, the general and esthetic education of the human being have been emphasized and one was convinced of the teachability of art. The reason was twofold: drawing was supposed to shape the taste of future producers, and the arts were ascribed ethical, moral and political functions. In numerous art schools, drawing lessons were now being taken up that not only fine arts benefited from but also craft: over 100 academies were founded in Europe during this period.2 In 1770 in Munich, for instance, Elector Max III. Joseph decided to turn a private artistic circle gathered for life drawing and modeling sessions into an official "drawing school" (*»Fig. 1*).3

The Munich art academy as a public institution was formed relatively late in the European context. Following the example of the Parisian academy, the first art schools were founded in German countries in the seventeenth century – in Augsburg, Nuremberg, Vienna and Berlin.4 In the eighteenth century a huge number of art schools followed. Several European capitals installed art schools in the first half of the eighteenth century,

4 Mai 2010, pp. 30–59.

<sup>1</sup> For the quotation in the title, see footnote 29.

<sup>2</sup> Pevsner 1986, p. 144; Heilmann/Nanobashvili/Teutenberg 2015, pp. 5–8; Kemp 1979, pp. 175–188; Mai 2010, p. 60.

<sup>3</sup> The term *Zeichenschul* (drawing school) is used in the early sources on the school. See Stieler 1909, pp. 4–6; Meine-Schawe 2008, pp. 20–21.

**Fig. 1** Anonymous, Academy Class, c. 1825, pencil on paper, 50.5 x 61.5 cm, Münchner Stadtmuseum, collection of graphic/painting, inv. no. G-32/410.

such as St. Petersburg, Vienna or Copenhagen. The majority of art schools were finally founded in the second half of the eighteenth century, such as in Mannheim in 1752, Stuttgart in 1761, Düsseldorf in 1767 and finally Munich in 1770.5 The art schools of the time had a similar curriculum of teaching developed in the seventeenth century. Students drew parts of the body based on graphical templates; in a second step they studied plaster casts and human models.6


### The constitution of 1808 and the idealistic conception of art

Painting was soon included in the academic curriculum. This is verifiable in Munich not later than with the statute of 1808 – the first official statute of the Munich Academy. Within the Munich Academy, drawing "from depictions, plaster casts and nature" was specifically described for the first grade of academic teaching. As a second grade of education, a course is named where students should learn "the use of colour […] and painting in its proper sense". A third grade follows in which students' own compositions were realized.7 However, as can clearly be seen in students' reports of that time, the hierarchy between the individual classes was never applied strictly. Louise Seidler, one of the first women to study at the Academy of Fine Arts Munich from 1817 on, gave an account of a range of courses which were open for all grades, "On winter evenings models [mostly dressed; C.S., J.K.] were drawn, but on summer mornings painting classes took place. At 8 o'clock I attended portrait studies from nature; then followed the remaining lessons, which proceeded according to grade."8

While the "drawing school" of the eighteenth century was motivated by the expectations of business development, the constitution of 1808 was striving for much more than the mere education of taste by copying antique paragons. The preamble mainly contains this new spirit of art understanding. This was certainly related to the influence of the philosopher Friedrich Wilhelm Schelling who was not only appointed First Secretary of the Academy but also began teaching there what today would be referred to as 'Esthetics'.9 Six years before the king released the constitution, Schelling had presented his own esthetic philosophy in 1802. In his declaration he negated every thought of a taste formation in favor of national wealth. He intended the art academy to be a place where art could regain its relevance so that it could become a driving force in public life that was still shaped by feudalism at that time. Artists and the arts had become autonomous and the academy was supposed to promote the search for innovation.10 For Schelling, the image of the human at rest was the ideal of art: this image was there to depict the timeless, universal idea of humanity. Ultimately, a representative drawing or painting was not able to reflect the absolute ideal. A depiction of humanity that

<sup>7</sup> Stieler 1909, p. 23.

<sup>8</sup> "Im Winter wurde abends nach Modellen gezeichnet, im Sommer dagegen früh morgens gemalt. Um 8 Uhr war Porträt-Studium nach der Natur, woran ich Anteil nahm; hierauf folgte klassenweise der übrige Unterricht." (Gleichenstein 1992, p. 28).

<sup>9</sup> The rumors about the authorship of Schelling concerning the constitution go back to 1909, when Eugen von Stieler published his history of the academy (Stieler 1909, p. 18). In the last years the authorship of the politician Heinrich von Schenk is proved. The influence of Schelling is still without doubt. Meine-Schawe 2008, p. 27.

<sup>10</sup> Schelling 1803.

#### 100 Johannes Kirschenmann and Caroline Sternberg

**Fig.2 a,b** Robert von Langer, Title and Plate 13 from Langer 1810–1816.

embodies the universe could at best be non-objective; and it would still take a century until this groundbreaking development actually happened.11

Drawing books were used for teaching, which in parts were and still are located in the Academy's library, even to this day. Also, directors produced individual work samples. Robert von Langer's *Sammlung von Zeichnungen zum Nachbilden in den Realund Gymnasial-Schulen des Koenigreichs Baiern* (Collection of drawings for reproduction in secondary and high schools of the Kingdom of Bavaria; Langer 1810–1816) bears witness thereof (*»Figs. 2 a, b*).

It was published from 1810 through 1816 as an official textbook. Robert von Langer had produced the original blueprints of works by Italian masters during a stay in Italy. In 1806 he became professor and in 1808 director of the Academy of Fine Arts Munich. The 115 original drawings have been in the Academy´s collection since 1808.12

Artists as Raphael, Michelangelo and Carracci are emphasized as models. Their perfected imitation of nature is said to be a proof of quality. In turn, the knowledge of anatomy is regarded as a constitutive guarantee of this successful imitation. Langer especially emphasizes Raphael, who he claims is the only artist in the succession of antique sculpture who was able to transfer *das Erhabene* (the sublime) into painting.

<sup>11</sup> Simons 1985.

<sup>12</sup> The drawings had been published between 1810 and 1813 as a textbook in an edition of 150 copies, see: Meine-Schawe 2014, p. 79.

Approaching Raphael without copying through the act of studying and learning from the classical works of art by drawing them should convey the ideal form of beauty to the students. Subsequently, the immediate study of nature was pushed back.13 Summarized briefly, this boils down to a synthesis of imitating Raphael and other masters of Renaissance painting in conjunction with the study of nature. Sensibility and reasoning were artistic education qualities; bare drawing skills for designers and craftspeople could be obtained at drawing schools.

### Drawing education in the curriculum of the Munich Academy

From the Academy's founding until the early twentieth century, drawing constituted the basis of the artists' education. Upon acceptance into the Academy, the students had to submit figure drawings.14 The aspiring artists trained their skills in private drawing schools before studying at the Academy. A sketchbook drawing from 1852 which the well-known Munich artist Franz von Lenbach had made at the age of 16, a year before being accepted into the Academy (in October 1853), depicts the attempts of a very young artist (*»Fig. 3*).

Having finished professional training in the building trade, he took drawing lessons at the Polytechnic University in Augsburg.15

Once accepted into the Academy, the disciples had theoretical as well as practical courses. The constitution of 1808 even states "lectures on mythology and general art objects."16 In 1828 obligatory lectures on art history, anatomy as well as on perspective and the construction of shadows can be found in the statutes. At least from 1842 on exams had to be taken in these courses.17

Considering the primacy of history painting until the late nineteenth century, occupation with the human physique was at the core of drawing education. This happened


<sup>13</sup> Angerer 1984, p. 66; Langer 1806, p. 230. See for a similar conception: Roettgen 2015.

<sup>14</sup> Satzungen für die Schüler der Königlich Bayerischen Akademie der bildenden Künste in München, 1848, IV.10, AdBK München, Registratur, II.1.2. Studiensatzung.

in anatomy classes on a more theoretical basis. Models were studied for this purpose, but also "human cadavers."18

Graphical templates like the ones by the aforementioned Robert von Langer served as a first step in the occupation with the human body in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century.

This first step of the education was outsourced to the School of Applied Arts with the statute of 1828.19 For this reason, studies from graphic samples faded into the background at the Academy. The first level of education from then on was to study from plaster casts and from nature.20 The Academy's collection of casts – which was largely researched by Monika Meine-Schawe with the use of the Bavarian Central State Archive – provided outstanding material for this. According to an inventory from 1822, the collection already included 600 plaster casts at that time.21 The course followed a precise daylong rhythm, as a Polish student wrote in a letter to his parents from 1867:

18 AdBK im Allgemeinen, Organisation, vol. 4 ("Geheime Raths Acta. Koenigliches Staats-Ministerium des Innern") 1841–1863, Bay. HStA München, MK-14094.

<sup>19</sup> Stieler 1909, p. 75.

<sup>20</sup> Einrichtung und Personalstand der Königlichen Akademie der bildenden Künste in München als Lehranstalt, 1828, I.2; Satzungen für die Schüler der Königlich Bayerischen Akademie der Bildenden Künste in München, 1848, 1, AdBK München, Registratur, II.1.2. Studiensatzung.

<sup>21</sup> Meine-Schawe 2008, p. 23.

**Fig.4** George Barsony, Corridor in the Munich Academy, before 1944, George Barsony, Australia.

I work at the academy, where I was accepted in Professor Strähuber's *Antikenklasse* [a course in antiques studies; C.S., J.K.] upon arrival; here I realized how much I'm still lacking. […] So without blushing I began drawing […] and worked patiently on my deficiencies, the whole day from 7 am until 6 in the evening.22

The plaster casts' importance for academic education decreased over the course of the nineteenth century. In 1885 the term *Antikenklasse* for the first level of education was officially abolished and from then on referred to as *Naturklasse* (nature studies) in the registration books.23 In the new building, which the Academy moved into in 1886, the plaster casts weren't even placed in the class rooms but rather in the corridors. A photo from 1944 depicts this situation (*»Fig. 4*).

The studies of nature took the central stage of the basic education from then on. As Moriz Carrière, professor of art history and secretary general of the Academy later recalled, the administration annotated this as follows:

<sup>22</sup> "Ich arbeite in der Akademie, wo ich gleich nach der Ankunft in die Antikenklasse unter Leitung von Professor Strähuber aufgenommen wurde; hier erst erkannte ich, wie viel mir noch fehlt. (...) Ohne rot zu werden machte ich mich also ans Zeichnen (…) und arbeite den ganzen Tag, von 7 Uhr früh bis 6 Uhr abends, geduldig an dem, was mir am meisten fehlte." (Witklewicz, Stanislaw: Aleksander Gierymski, Warszawa 1950, pp. 7–10, cited after Jooss 2012, p. 28.)

<sup>23</sup> Jooss 2012, p. 32.

[…] the splendid antiques [should; C.S., J.K.] no longer be objects of feeble beginners exercises in drawing […] studying nature, life-sized heads and bodies should be the starting point, and then some antiques should be replicated to train the artistic sensibility for form and beauty; the study of nature shall go hand in hand with the study of the masterpieces.24

The study of the human body, nude drawing, was only available to advanced students in the first half of the nineteenth century, but in the second half the students would start their courses with nude drawing, even in the Antikenklasse. Additionally, an Abendakt (evening nude drawing session) was offered across the board, which took place from 5–7 pm during the winter semester and is part of the academic teaching program to this very day.25

### Stylistic changes in drawing – exemplified in the work of Peter von Cornelius and Karl von Piloty

In 1825 Peter von Cornelius became the new director of the Academy of Fine Arts Munich. By outsourcing the first grade to the School of Applied Arts, he tried to raise the standard of the school. An altogether stronger emphasis was placed on monumental painting in the teaching, and landscape painting was abolished.

He set great store by idealized, linear compositions, which were to convey a superordinate idea. The claim on truth in historical details therefore faded into the background. In his own work, he prepared single images based on compositional sketches. Then he would give a fixed shape to the outlines and transfer them onto large wall elevations by tracing copies. In the 1830s Cornelius worked on the altarpiece for the *Ludwigskirche* (Catholic Parish and University Church St. Louis) in Munich. The study of Satan displays distinctly vivid modeling (*»Fig. 5*).

This suggests that Cornelius valued anatomical accuracy also in teaching and drawing from nature.26

<sup>24</sup> "…die herrlichen Antiken [sollten] nicht mehr Gegenstände schwacher Anfangsübungen im Zeichnen sein […]; das Zeichnen nach der Natur, nach Köpfen und Körpern in Lebensgröße sollte beginnen, und dann sollten zur Ausbildung des künstlerischen Formensinns und Schönheitsgefühls einige Antiken nachgebildet werden; das Studium der Natur soll mit dem der Meisterwerke Hand in Hand gehen." (Cited after: Carrière 1888, p. 74; see also: Jooss 2012, p. 37; Singer 2017, p. 66; Aymonino 1915, pp. 15–6.

<sup>25</sup> Meine-Schawe 2008, p. 22; Jooss 2012, p. 24.

<sup>26</sup> Büttner 1999, pp. 186, 451; Müller-Bechtel 2018, pp. 220–232.

**Fig.5** Peter von Cornelius, Study of Lucifer, 1834, pencil on paper, 33.3 x 28 cm, Städtische Galerie im Lenbachhaus, Munich, inv. no. G 13055.

During the second half of the nineteenth century, new demand on history painting emerged. The claim for truth was now supposed to be reflected in historical details. This can be noticed in the working process of Karl von Piloty, Professor of History Painting at the Academy from 1856. In his history paintings, Piloty draws significantly less than Cornelius. Character studies were rather used to study postures, and his portrait studies were done in oil, such as for his painting *Nero on the ruins of Carthage* from 1860. Drafts for Nero's posture have been preserved (*»Fig. 6*), and for the portrait he used a head study in oil, which he had previously crafted in Rome with the use of a model.27

A distinct change can be determined in his character studies. They are sketched quickly, the unbroken contours are supported by numerous lines.

**Fig.6** Karl von Piloty, Study to Emperer Nero, 1860, pencil on paper, 17.8 x 10.9 cm, Staatliche Graphische Sammlung, München, inv. no. 35353 Z.

### Student drawings at the Academy of the late nineteenth Century

Looking at the art students' education in drawing, the question as to how Piloty, the college's top star, influenced the Academy's schedule and the contents of the doctrine has to be asked. Concerning the time between the late nineteenth and the early twentieth century, there is an abundance of material in private collections (*»Figs. 7, 8*).

Studying sitting and standing nudes, the examples suggest that a distinct canon of postures had been worked through at the Munich Academy. A different muscle had been worked on for every posture.28 Effectively, the ability to depict nature truthfully was seen as the most important issue of the young artists' basic education. Even in 1883, an Austrian student told his parents about Karl von Piloty's point of view on his studies from nature:

The things aren't thoroughly studied, too elusive. You have to draw with more attention, more dedication. Here one works quite differently. This just isn't enough, even though the overall effect of some of the stuff isn't too bad. Drawing from

**7**

**Fig.7** German Grobe, Study from the Nude, 1878, pencil on paper, heightened with white, 37.6 x 31.3 cm, labeled "M. 1878", private collection.

**Fig.8** Leo Götz, Study of the Male Nude, sketchbook, c. 1913, charcoal on paper, 55 x 36 cm, private collection.

memory only makes sense when you first studied it from nature. Join professor Hackl's class and draw antiques for some weeks, approximately until Christmas. You're on the right track with regard to planes, but once you have studied the forms and know them with determination, you will draw nature very differently.29

Taking a look at the examples, changes become visible. In the late nineteenth century, new forms of the nude study emerged since the rehearsed academic postures had been widely rejected. August Rodin, for example, was the first to give his models the freedom of moving autonomously through the room. The majority of literature states these developments beyond the academies.30 Student works, as those of Leo Götz from the early 1910s, reflect these tendencies. They are faster. Some of the contours are corrected. The plasticity is only implied with rough hatchings. The sketchiness of the drawings increases in comparison to earlier figure studies and shows the interest in depicting a fast impression. The strict academic routine was often more flexible than one would expect.

Apart from academic nudes, numerous portrait studies by students of the Academy from the second half of the nineteenth century still exist in huge numbers. They show portraits of various models who are wearing costumes in many cases. This kind of portraits can be found up to the 1930s (*»Fig. 9*)31.

The study of different models had been part of the daily schedule since the middle of the nineteenth century. Every morning models in diverse costumes gathered in the vestibule, sometimes dressed up "as a dignified priest, at other times as a philistine with a beer mug, sometimes even in a rococo dress and buckled shoes," as was written in the *Illustrirte Zeitung* in 1891.32 The historic accuracy also had to be maintained in the historic decor. Therefore, the Academy had had an enormous collection of costumes at its disposal since the middle of the nineteenth century. This included not only clothes but weapons and various other accessories, too. Among other things, the Ministry of Culture handed the captured French weapons and armory from the Franco-Prussian War of 1870/1871 over to Piloty's Class.33 Charles Vetter's drawings of props from 1882 prove the intense occupation with this material (*»Fig. 10*).

29 "Die Sachen sind zu wenig studiert, zu flüchtig; Sie müssen mit mehr Aufmerksamkeit, mit Hingabe zeichnen. Hier wird ganz anders gearbeitet. Das ist zu wenig, wenn auch die Gesamtwirkung bei manchen Sachen nicht schlecht ist. Das Auswendigzeichnen ist erst dann von Wert, wenn man derartiges genau nach der Natur studiert hat. Gehen Sie zu Professor Hackl und zeichnen Sie noch einige Wochen Antike, etwa bis Weihnachten. Wissen Sie, so recht in Flächen, jede Form mit Bestimmtheit durchstudiert, dann werden Sie anders nach der Natur zeichnen." (Engelhart 1943, p. 28 (letter to his parents, September 5, 1883); after Jooss 2012, p. 35).


<sup>30</sup> Froitzheim 1994, p. 8.

**Fig.9** Rudolf Max Baron Goldschmidt-Rothschild, Study of an Old Lady, after 1900, chalk on paper, 51 x 48 cm, archive of The Academy of fine arts Munich, inv. no. KG-0613, foto: Rainer Herrmann.

**Fig. 10** Charles Vetter, Studies of Helmets and Lances, c. 1882, pencil on paper, 25 x 35 cm, signed and labeled "C. Vetter 28", private collection.

### The education of the Munich Academy in an international context

The Munich Academy's student body became increasingly international during the second half of the nineteenth century. The Academy itself, with its focus on monumental history painting, was on eye level with other German academies of the Gründerzeit, such as Berlin, or Düsseldorf.34 The attraction of Munich to students from all over the world can also be traced back to the extraordinary museum collections, the current art exhibitions and the convivial life in Munich. With a total number of 200 students, the number of foreign students at the Academy constituted slightly less than half in the 1870s.35

For the occasion of the Munich Academy's anniversary in 2008 a research group initiated by Walter Grasskamp analyzed the force of its attraction upon artists from Europe. Many students came from eastern Central Europe and the Balkans, where no state art academies existed. Another large group covered students from Northern Europe, where higher art education was also comparably underdeveloped.36 Polish people formed one of the most numerous groups in Munich. The loss of Poland's independence in particular caused great numbers of young artists to study abroad. In the time between 1828 and 1914, 322 Polish students were verifiably enrolled at the Academy of Fine Arts Munich.37 The strong internationality became noticeable in the professorate as well. After the appointment of the first Hungarian Professor, Sandór von Wagner in 1869, various others followed: the Hungarians Gyula Benczúr and Sandór Liezen-Mayer, the Bohemian Gabriel von Max as well as the Greek Nikolaus Gysis.38

Most of the foreign students went back to their home countries after having finished their studies. Many of them were largely involved in the development of national historic painting and the building of a local cultural scene, for example the Hungarian Gyula Benczúr, who abandoned his professorship in Munich to teach at the newly established master school in Budapest. The Greek Nikiforos Lytras was employed at the Athens School of Fine Art in 1866. The Pole Jan Matejko even took over the directorate of the Academy of Fine Arts in Krakow in 1873.39

While the European sphere is widely researched in many regards, the range of the Munich Academy's non-European meaning is still in the dark. The Academy's registration


<sup>34</sup> Mai 2010, pp. 279–301.

<sup>35</sup> Statistische Berichte der K. b. Academie der Bildenden Künste für die Schuljahre 1871/72 und 1872/1873; Übersicht über die Frequenz und den effektiven Anfall von Schul- und Inskriptionsgeldern bei der K. Akademie der Bildenden Künste im den Jahren 1886–1895, Bay. HStA, MK 14095, AdBK im Allgemeinen, Organisation, vol. 5 (1864–1910).

<sup>36</sup> Krempel 2008, p. 266.

<sup>37</sup> Stępień 2008, p. 283.

books are a useful source, digitalized and put online in the course of the anniversary.40 Here, one can research individual students from different countries according to their nationality. Detailed statistics on foreign students from the time of about 1900 are kept in the Academy's archive (chart).41 Four groups of foreign students stand out: students from the USA, from South America, from Russia and some from Japan.

Concerning non-European countries, Americans constitute a very large group with roughly 400 students through the years 1850–1920. In the US there were no comparable training opportunities for young artists either. Moreover, Europe's artistic production was extremely popular among American collectors so young artists had economic reasons to aspire to study in Europe. Americans not only came to Munich, they also attended Academies in Paris, Antwerp, Florence or Rome. Many chose Munich as their place of study because of their German roots.42 Around 1860, some American students went to the Munich Academy who would later on become respected figures in the field of artistic education in their home country, including the painters Lemuel Wilmarth, William Merrit Chase and Frank Duveneck.

A group of about 15 students from South and Central America had an astonishing impact. The Mexican Germán Gedovius from 1887 went on to study in the Naturklasse and started teaching in 1903 as a professor at the Art Academy in Mexico City. The Brazilian Alberto da Veiga Guignard enrolled at the Munich Academy in 1916. In 1929 he returned to Brazil where Guignard ran a private painting school among other activities. The Argentine Fernando Fader, son of a French mother and a German father, started studying in Heinrich von Zügel's painting class in 1901. Back in Argentina he founded a painting academy in 1905 and taught as a professor for landscape painting at the Academy of Fine Arts in Buenos Aires.43

According to the students' statistics, the third major group consists of Russian students, which can be attributed to the non-European context. At the turn of the century in particular, Munich was of interest to Russian artists.44 The statistics show that there were often more than 20 enrolled Russians at the Munich Academy between 1900 and 1910. Very famous are of course the Russian members of Der Blaue Reiter, not least Wassily Kandinsky. He, too, returned to his home country in 1918 to set up the cultural life of the new Russia.

There was also a small number of Japanese students. The first among them was Najohiro, who enrolled for the *Antikenklasse* in 1884 (*»Fig. 11*).45



<sup>42</sup> Böller 2008.

**Fig. 11** Najohiro Harada, Old Man from a Sketchbook, 1884, ink on paper, 34.0 x 21.8 cm, Bridgestone Museum of Art, Ishibashi Foundation, Tokyo.

After returning to Japan in 1887, Harada opened his private art school Shobi-kan in Tokyo in 1889 to propagate Western-style painting. According to the curriculum of his school, he first taught the laws of perspective and life drawing.46 The concept of anatomy was also included in his school curriculum. After finishing these courses, the students then studied oil painting. In those days in Japan, students normally learned Japanese traditional painting not by drawing living models but by reproducing their teacher's copies. Harada raised an objection to this Japanese traditional method and emphasized the necessity of Western-style painting, namely perspective, anatomy and life drawing, to capture the exact form of objects.47

Finally, questions ought to be posed which help us to get closer to understanding the significance of the Academy of Fine Art Munich's drawing education in non-European contexts. One interesting question seems to be which elements of the schedule at the Munich Academy have been picked up by other art schools worldwide. What did the Munich teaching model stand for? Was it paradigmatic for artistic education in Europe? The different aspects discussed in this book could open up a new dimension of research also of the history of the Academy of Fine Arts Munich.

<sup>46</sup> Establishment report of School Shobi-kan, January 25, 1889, Tokyo Metropolitan Archives, 617. D3.19.

<sup>47</sup> Thanks for this statement to Tomoko Yoshioka, the curator of the recent exhibition on Harada in Japan. See footnote 45. – Unfortunately, Harada closed his school in 1895 because of illness and he died in 1899 at the age of 36. He was only able to paint and work for ten years after he returned from Germany.


#### **Table1** Student Statistics of the Munich Academy (1902–1911).

#### Bibliography

Angerer, Birgit: *Die Münchner Kunstakademie zwischen Aufklärung und Romantik. Ein Beitrag zur Kunsttheorie und Kunstpolitik unter Max I. Joseph*, Munich 1984.

Aymonino, Adriano: *"Nature perfected". The Theory & Practice of Drawing after the Antique*, in: Aymonino, Adriano (ed.): *Drawn from the Antique. Artists & the Classical Ideal* (exh. cat.), London 1915, pp. 15–78.

Baumstark, Reinhold and Frank Büttner: *Großer Auftritt. Piloty und die Historienmalerei* (exh. cat.), Munich et al. 2003.

Böller, Susanne: *Amerikanische Künstler an der Münchner Kunstakademie*, in: Gerhart/ Grasskamp/Matzner 2008, pp. 293–295.

Büttner, Frank: *Peter Cornelius. Fresken und Freskenprojekte*, 2 vols., Wiesbaden 1980/1999.

Calov, Gudrun: *München und die russischen Künstler*, Wiesbaden 1998.

Carrière, Moriz: *"Dreißig Jahre an der Akademie der Künste zu München*", in: Westermanns Illustrierte Deutsche Monatshefte (separately published), 385 (October 1888), pp. 59–77.

Dollen, Ingrid von der: *Karoline Wittmann 1913–1978. Zwei Facetten einer Malerin*, Tutzing 2010.

Engelhart, Josef: *Ein Wiener Maler erzählt. Mein Leben und meine Modelle*, Vienna 1943.

Froitzheim, Eva-Maria (ed.): *Körper und Kontur. Aktstudien des 18. bis 20. Jahrhunderts aus dem Kupferstichkabinett* (exh. cat.), Karlsruhe 1994.

Gerhart, Nikolaus, Walter Grasskamp und Florian Matzner (eds.): *200 Jahre Akademie der bildenden Künste München: "...kein bestimmter Lehrplan, kein gleichförmiger Mechanismus* (exh. cat.), Munich 2008.

Gleichenstein, Elisabeth von (ed.): *"…Und hat als Weib unglaubliches Talent" (Goethe): Angelika Kauffmann (1741–1807); Marie* 

*Ellenrieder (1791–1863). Malerei und Graphik* (exh. cat.), Konstanz 1992.

Gollek, Rosel and Winfried Ranke (ed.): *Franz von Lenbach 1836–1904* (exh. cat.), Munich 1987.

Heilmann, Maria, Nino Nanobashvili, Ulrich Pfisterer and Tobias Teutenberg (eds.): *Lernt Zeichnen! Techniken zwischen Kunst und Wissenschaft | 1525–1925* (exh. cat.), Passau 2015.

Heilmann, Maria,Nino Nanobashvili and Tobias Teutenberg: *Die Räume der Zeichner. Zu den Orten zeichnerischer Praxis von der Frühen Neuzeit bis ins 20. Jahrhundert*, in: Heilmann/Nanobashvili/Pfisterer/ Teutenberg 2015, pp. 1–21.

Jooss, Birgit: *Zwischen Antikenstudium und Meisterklasse. Der Unterrichtsalltag an der Münchner Kunstakademie im 19. Jahrhundert*, in: Ptaszyńska, Eliza (ed.): *Ateny nad Izarą. Malarstvo monachijskie / Athen an der Isar. Münchner Malerei. Studien und Skizzen*, Suwałki 2012, pp. 23–46.

Kemp, Wolfgang: *"...einen wahrhaft bildenden Zeichenunterricht überall einzuführen". Zeichnen und Zeichenunterricht der Laien 1400–1870*, Frankfurt a. M. 1979.

Krempel, León: *Wie international war die Münchner Kunstakademie?*, in: Gerhart/ Grasskamp/Matzner 2008, pp. 264–271.

Langer, Robert von: *Studien, Raphael und Poussin*, in: Der Neue Teutsche Merkur, 2 (1806), pp. 221–247.

Langer, Robert von: *Sammlung von Zeichnungen zum Nachbilden in den Real- und Gymnasial-Schulen des Koenigreichs Baiern*, Munich 1810–1816.

Mai, Ekkehard: *Die deutschen Kunstakademien im 19. Jahrhundert. Künstlerausbildung zwischen Tradition und Avantgarde*, Cologne 2010.


*von F.W. J. Schelling*, in: Zacharias 1985, pp. 59–76.


### Transfers

# Picture and Drawing Education in Nineteenth-Century Java

Werner Kraus

#### Introduction

Before the nineteenth century there was no indigenous tradition of drawing in Java. The climate did not support the invention or import of paper, parchment, and pencils. The only materials that withstood the impact of tropical weather were stone, barkpaper and prepared leaves of certain palm trees. No materials to invite the development of drawing. The introduction of paper, ink, pencils, as well as drawing techniques, is closely connected to the colonial impact.

However, in rudimentary form, drawing was not completely unknown on the island. A small number of Javanese manuscripts produced since the seventeenth century was (rather crudely) illustrated, and in a number of old texts drawing and drawn images are mentioned. None of these old samples have survived or are remembered.

#### Early impact of European art

At the very start of European expansion towards the East, engravings and paintings were transported in the hulls of the ships *en route* to Asia. In the case of Java, these were Dutch ships. For the first journey east-bound, the Dutch flotilla's cargo included prints and oil paintings, meant as gifts for local rulers. In 1620 Jan Pieterzon Coen, the founder of Batavia, presented the Sultan of Palembang/Sumatra with an oil painting of Amsterdam harbor. In 1637 the Dutch East India Company (VOC) in Amsterdam was asked for a supply of paintings, in order to offer them to the Prince of Martapura/ Borneo. In 1651 the independent Ruler of Mataram in Central Java received five paintings as a gift.1

1 Holt 1967, p. 119.

These incomplete records indicate that even in the seventeenth century European art had become a commodity in Southeast Asia and played a certain role in symbolic and material exchange and trade systems.

And not only did art travel, artists did too. In the archives of the VOC we often come across persons called *schilder* painters. We know, for example, that Dirk Lievens, a landscape and portrait painter, moved to Batavia in 1648 and died there two years later.2 He was the younger brother of the well-known Dutch artist Jan Lievens, who shared a studio with his friend Rembrandt van Rijn. In 1670 Rembrandt's daughter Cornelia (1652–1678), the only child to survive Rembrandt, boarded a sailing ship bound for Batavia with her husband, the painter Cornelis Suythoff (1652–1678). Their hope to make a fortune as artists was very short lived. Neither could survive on their trade in Batavia, instead they had to take up all kinds of odd jobs. Suythoff finally worked as a jailer and both passed away after some short years in Batavia. They left two young sons behind, the elder one was named after his grandfather, Rembrandt.

Whether early European paintings and the few visiting artists that went to Java had an impact on the visual tradition of the Javanese elite cannot be substantiated. But these early events might have laid the ground for later developments.

#### Early evidence of drawing education in Java

The earliest evidence of a Chinese artisan/artist on Java who must have had received some drawing education along European lines is found in the travel journal of Caspar Schmalkalden from Thüringen, Germany. Schmalkalden lived on Java between 1642 and 1652 and noted a watercolor of a Javanese rhinoceros next to an illustration in his text (*» Fig. 1*), "This rhinoceros was painted by a Chinese painter based on a living one in Batavia."3

Strange enough, the drawing is very close to the famous woodcut *Rhinoceros* by Albrecht Dürer (1515). Form, shape, nature, the whole *gestalt* of the animal is reminiscent of Dürer's *Rhinoceros.* But how can we explain the fact that a Chinese in seventeenth-century Java had access to an almost 140-year-old German woodcut? It is not very likely that there was a copy of Dürer's *Rhinoceros* extant in Batavia. I believe that the Chinese had seen the illustration of the rhino in Johannis Jonstonus' book *Naeukeurige Beschryving van de Natuur der Vier-Voetige Dieren* … (Amsterdam, 1649– 53)*.* This publication was the most famous animal book of the seventeenth century and was printed in a number of languages. The rhino in Jonstonus' book was a copy of the

<sup>2</sup> Van Brakel/Scaliet/van Duuren/ten Kate 1998, p. 16.

<sup>3</sup> Joost 1983, p. 118.

**Fig.1** Chinese Artist, *Rhinozeros*, c. 1650*,* Forschungs- und Landesbibliothek Gotha (Joost 1983, p. 118).

rhino in Conrad Gessner's *Historiae animalium*, and Gessner's rhino followed Dürer's woodcut very closely. Jonstonus' book was available in Batavia while Schmalkalden was living there. At least one copy of the *Naeukeurige Beschryving* had been shipped from Holland to Java and eventually passed on to the Dutch factory Deshima near Nagasaki/ Japan. The book was meant as a gift for the Shogun in Edo/Japan and was actually presented to him by Hendrik Indijk, director of the Dutch enclave in 1663.4 Before Jonstonus' work was taken to Japan, it must have been around in Batavia for a certain period, since all goods of the Dutch East India Company intended to be shipped to eastern harbors had to pass through Batavia, and the boat from Batavia to Deshima/ Japan left once a year.

It is of interest to note that the anonymous Chinese painter in Batavia was not only acquainted with Dürer's idea of a rhinoceros but must have seen a real rhinoceros as well. This is proven by the fact that he did not repeat Dürer's anatomical mistake,

<sup>4</sup> The Japanese historian Sugita Genpaku claims in his *Rangaku Kotohajime* (History of Dutch science) 1817, that Jonstonus' book has to be regarded as the starting point of the *rangaku*, the *Dutch science,* in Japan.

the so called 'Dürer hornlet'.5 The Chinese might have seen the young rhinoceros that was wounded and taken to Batavia in 1647.6

One hundred years after the rhino was drawn for Schalkalden's diary, Josua van Jpern makes mention of another Chinese painter in Batavia. He identifies a Chinese artist, who did some drawings and watercolors for him, as Hokki.7 The same Hokki was rather critically commented on by the then secretary of *Bataviasch Genootschap van Wetenschapen en Kunsten*, Friedrich Baron von Wurmb.8 He complains that the Chinese draftsman (Hokki) is not able (or not willing?) to follow his instructions:

We have here a Chinese man who has a very accomplished and steady hand for drawing and can draw the form of anything given to him with great accuracy and detail; but despite all of my efforts and the best examples that I have shown him, it is not possible to get him to use the correct coloring and necessary shadowing in his paintings because he does not fully grasp the requisite characteristics of a painting.9

This is the first written document on art education in Java and it sounds like an early and interesting case of cross-cultural misunderstanding.

30 years later, Sir Stamford Raffles, British Lieutenant Governor of Java between 1811 and 1816, wrote in his famous *History of Java,* the first book on Java of any importance:

The Javanese have made no progress in drawing or painting; nor are there any traces to be found of their having, at any former period of their history, attained any proficiency in this art." But he added, "They are not, however, ignorant of proportions or perspective, nor are they insensible to the beauty and


effect of the productions of other nations. Their eye is correct and their hand steady, and if required to sketch any particular object, they produce a very fair resemblance of the original. They are imitative, and though genius in this art may not have appeared among them, there is reason to believe that, with due encouragement, they would not be found less ingenious than other nations in a similar stage of civilization.10

#### Drawing education during the nineteenth century

While the power relations between the local and the colonial authorities started to change dramatically during the nineteenth century in Java, the indigenous elite began to accept increasingly larger parts of the Dutch cultural model. Being modern (and accepted by the Europeans) now meant accepting certain habits of the colonial power holders. By creating a Creole or hybrid culture, the local elite inwardly stayed devoted to their own cultural values, while outwardly they adopted a thin layer of Dutch everyday culture. Just like the Dutch, they also began to display paintings (or rather prints) in their residencies and houses. When Duke Bernhard von Sachsen-Weimar-Eisenach, commander-in-chief of the Dutch-Indian forces and godson of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, visited the residence of the Sultan of Sumenap on Madura on August 12, 1859 he wrote, "Hanging on the columns and pillars are all sorts of European paintings, lithographs etc., badly drawn views of European cities etc."11

And the novelist Therese von Bacheracht-Lützow, who travelled with Duke Bernhard, remarked in addition:

The Panembahan had bad lithographs nailed in golden frames to the pillars of his audience hall, depicting scenes from the last French revolution in 1848. ... He believed that these poorly executed pictures, which a roguish Surabaya salesman talked him into buying, constituted the beginning of a precious art collection.12


**Fig.2** John Newman, *A Javanese Grandee and an Attendant*, c. 1811. Watercolor 249 x 395 mm. British Library WD 953,f.96 (107).

Therese's observation is precise, but her judgment certainly wrong. No "roguish Surabaya salesman" had to talk the local Madurese ruler into buying prints. He was most probably looking for them and displayed them as proof of his own modernity. Maybe he had them "nailed to the pillars" just hours before his distinguished visitors arrived to demonstrate that he was "civilized" already and needed no further instructions by the colonial masters.

We have a visual document of a similar, but earlier situation. It is a watercolor by the Anglo-Indian artist John Newman, who served in Java as a draftsman in the service of Colin Mackenzie between 1811 and 1813. His watercolor *A Javanese grandee and an attendant* (*» Fig. 2*) includes a framed picture, a simple harbor scene or seascape, on the wall of a room at the Regent of Semarang, Surya Adimanggala.13

The picture – maybe a Dutch print, maybe a local watercolor, maybe a Chinese reverse glass painting – stands as witness to a changing taste and visual mode.

Other Asians were as well impressed by the products of European art. The Vietnamese envoy Phan Huy Chú, who visited Batavia in 1833, rated in a rare intercultural insight the artistic abilities of the Dutch equal to the best Chinese painters, and he was astonished that Europeans had acquired this ability without having studied in China!14

14 Kelly 1998.

<sup>13</sup> Surya Adimanggala was the uncle of the Javanese artist Raden Saleh, see below.

The demand for talented illustrators increased during the short British interregnum in Java (1811–1816). New survey sheets and maps needed to be made, old ones copied and improved. The British also started a new interest in the natural and cultural history of Java, which resulted in a whole number of articles and books. Lieutenant Governor Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles and his colleague John Crawfurd nurtured a strong historical and ethnographic interest. Both penned important "Histories" of Java and the Archipelago and needed numerous illustrations for their published and unpublished works. Since the times of enlightenment, scientific illustrations had grown in importance. The involvement and integration of visual argumentation in scientific discourses developed a growing need for illustrators. Raffles could not request illustrators from England (because of Napoleon's Continental Blockade) and was therefore forced to look for local talents (Dutch, French, Chinese, Indian, Malays and Javanese). Munshi Abdullah, Raffles' translator, wrote that in 1811 Raffles hired a Chinese illustrator from Macao in Malacca and added that he was "very expert at drawing life-like pictures of fruits and flowers."15 The Chinese artist – his name might have been A Kow – quite likely belonged to the increasing group of "Chinese Trade Art" painters who worked in the open ports of the South China Coast, namely Canton and Macao, for the European and American market. Some of them moved down south and found employment in what is now Malaysia, Singapore and Indonesia.

#### Colonial drawing education in Java during the nineteenth century

We have to differentiate between two types of drawing education in nineteenth-century Java: 1. Drawing instructions offered by colonial schools and institutions and 2. Drawing lessons organized by private persons, mostly artists or art societies.

The colonial administration was interested in producing able draftsmen for practical reasons like map making, technical drawings, land surveying, and documentation of flora and fauna. Artists and art societies were working on a different agenda. For them, drawing education was an essential part of universal education, a concept developed throughout the eighteenth century by David Hume and Immanuel Kant.16

<sup>15</sup> Abdallāh Ibn 1970, p. 76.

<sup>16</sup> The idea of the aesthetic grew into one of the most privileged and rarified categories in the upcoming modern tradition and was certainly meant for 'civilized races' only, not, as David Hume expressed it for 'negroes and other species of men'. Javanese people certainly were regarded as 'other species of men' and it was generally understood, even by highly educated men like Friedrich Baron von Wurmb, that they had no access to the aesthetic. Baron von Wurmb wrote in 1781 (Wurmb 1794, p. 249), that in Java "no Raphael and no Mengs" will ever appear.

#### Drawing instructions in public and private schools

After the British interregnum in Java (1811–1816), the Dutch started to transform the former territories of the Dutch East India Company (VOC) into an effective colony, which soon developed into one of the most successful exploitation systems ever invented. The VOC, which was disbanded by the end of 1799, had offered some drawing education through the Marine Academy in Semarang/Java (1782–1811), which was the first educational institution in Java that included drawing lessons in its curriculum and produced a number of able draftsmen. After the Dutch had taken control over Java again in 1816, the Academy was reopened as Militaire School. Drawing lessons at Militaire School placed emphasis on the production of maps, plans for fortifications, etc. But most of the students were able to draw natural objects as well. Only few had the ability to produce human figures. The educational program of the Militaire School was the prelude for art education in Java. The school was meant for Europeans only.

Since the native Javanese were expected to produce export crops, the colonial administration felt no need for educated natives. Besides a very small number of so called *lagere schoolen* (elementary schools), for a limited number of Dutch children and children of the native elite, no schools existed in Java. The first *lagere school* was opened on February 24, 1817 in Batavia. The Swiss traveler Phyffer zu Neueck, who spent the years between 1819 and 1827 in Java, mentions in his book *Skizzen von der Insel Java* that the curriculum of the *lagere school* in Batavia included some basic instruction in drawing, dance and music.

Some years later, in the 1830s, the so called *lands teekenschool* (public drawing school) was established and attached to the elementary schools (there were now four of them) in Batavia. Students were instructed twice a week for two hours in topographical, technical and free hand drawing. For some decades attendance at the drawing school was limited to Europeans, Indo-Europeans and maybe the Chinese as well. Only in 1863 were native students allowed to join the lessons at the *lands teekenschool*.

Who were the instructors at the drawing school in Batavia and what kind of qualification did they have? Unfortunately, we have very few documents on the personnel at the *lands teekenschool*. We know that in 1845 a certain Bouhuijs was employed as a *teekenmeester* (drawing instructor) at the school in Batavia.17 Around 1870 the drawing instructor at the same school was a certain M. L. Huart. Huart, most probably Belgian, was a lithographer and specialist for topographic drawing. He was born in 1823 and got married in 1852 in The Hague. Two years later, at the age of 31, he travelled to Batavia with his wife. By the end of 1854 he was appointed *graveur* (lithographer) with the corps of engineers of the Dutch colonial army. Since his pay was not substantial enough to support his family, he offered his service as a designer of name cards,

17 *Javasche courant*, July 9, 1845.

invoices, vouchers and other items. He also worked as an illustrator for scientific articles written in the colony. Besides that, he offered private drawing lessons. In 1870 he was appointed drawing teacher at the *lands teekenschool*. M. L. Huart, whose educational background is not known, was certainly an experienced artist and a good choice for teaching drawing at the public drawing school in Batavia. He retired in 1882 and returned to Brussels where he died in November 1889.

#### Drawing schools in other Javanese towns

Besides Batavia, drawing schools were established in Semarang and Surabaya. The school in Semarang was opened as a joint venture between the artist Müller-Kruseman and the local government in 1850 and we can expect that Müller-Kruseman put more emphasis on artistic than on technical drawing.

Johan Caspar Müller-Kruseman was born in Leeuwarden in 1805 as a member of the extended Kruseman family, who originated from Hamm in Germany. Johan Caspar studied for a while in The Hague with his uncle Cornelis Kruseman, the most successful Dutch artist in the first half of the nineteenth century. He decided to move to the colony and arrived in Java in 1832. He did not, like most other artists, settle in Batavia or Surabaya, but moved to the small town of Surakarta/Central Java, where he lived as a portrait painter and drawing instructor. From this time, we know a portrait painting by Müller-Kruseman of the legendary sugar planter and landowner Johannes Augustinus Dezentje. In Solo he got married to Johanna Charlotta van de Wal. Apparently, he was then able to make enough money to support a family. In 1850 we find Müller-Kruseman in Semarang as the principal of a public/private drawing school. He lectured on Tuesdays and Fridays for two hours and asked for five guilders from his students as a monthly contribution. The school was supported by the president of the *sub-kommissie van onderwijs* (sub-commission of education) who voiced the hope that a great number of parents might register their children for the drawing lessons and in doing so, support their *vorming en ontwikkeling,* their education and development.18 It is intriguing to note that a government institution was not arguing for better trained but for better educated and generally improved children.

After the death of Johan Caspar Müller-Kruseman in 1856, the school was taken over by the government and "more useful" lessons, like topographical and technical drawing, received increased attention. In 1868 around 160 students were enrolled in the *lands teekenschool* in Semarang, all of them students of the local elementary schools. Starting April 1, 1869 the drawing school was opened to children who were

<sup>18</sup> *Semarangsch adventie-blad*, March 9, 1850.

not enrolled in a public school. The monthly fee was now four guilders and the drawing teacher was a certain J. F. Schönhals.19

Besides the public drawing school there was a private school in Semarang, the so called *Instituut Bodjong*, which employed a drawing teacher as well.

The situation in Surabaya was different again as here it was not the government nor a local artist who established drawing lessons but the *Maatschappij tot Nut van 't Algemeen* or *'t Nut* as it is commonly called. This society was founded in 1784 in Edam as a Dutch charity with a strong educational character. Maybe it can be compared to the *British Society of the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge*, founded 40 year later in 1826. *'t Nut* aimed at the greatest possible wellbeing of individuals and society. Its emphasis on discussion and learning provided an important impetus for the development of a democratic society in Holland. *'t Nut* established chapters in many cities in the Netherlands and also in the colony. The most important in Java was the one in Surabaya, a town of traders and early industrialists, more open towards ideas of social reform. 't Nut in Surabaya was founded in 1833 and one of its first programs was to establish a public library and a drawing class for the poor. Unfortunately, that initial input did not last very long. The drawing school closed down after a couple of months as the drawing instructor had found a better paid job. The same story repeated itself 20 years later. A new start for a drawing school was made in 1853, but was shut down again in 1856. A government-sponsored drawing school in Surabaya was not opened before 1864.20

When we talk about government-sponsored drawing instruction, we have to consider the *Corps Pupillen* as well. The *Corps Pupillen* was a cadet school, which played a certain role in introducing drawing in Java. The school was situated in Gombong in Central Java and was run by the military department. It was an establishment for abandoned children, fathered by European soldiers with Asian mothers. Some of them were given the chance to join the *Corps Pupillen* to acquire a basic education and receive some drawing lessons as well. A visitor to Gombong reported:

Entering the drawing class you notice with great satisfaction the impressive results of some students in the field of topographic, technical as well as artistic drawing.21

<sup>19</sup> *De Locomotief*, March 31 1869. Schönhals was appointed drawing instructor in March 1868 and used his newly found economic security to get married in December 1868. When he left Semarang for Batavia in 1877, he auctioned off an impressive array of furniture, carts and horses, paintings and drawing equipment. Schönhals died 1884 in Batavia.

<sup>20</sup> *Oostpost Soerabaja*, April 4, 1864.

<sup>21</sup> *Java-bode*, June 15, 1863: "De teekenzaal binnengetreden, zit men met en waare genoegen de werkelijk goede vorderingen van allen en van enkele leerlingen de flinke en correcte teekeningen, zowel topographische en bouwkundige als handteekeningen."

The *Corps Pupillen,* founded by one of the many Barons von Lützow in 1846, is still unexplored. Therefore we do not know how its large number of alumni, who seeped back into local society, affected the development and acceptance of western style drawing in small towns and villages.

One of the drawing instructors of the *Corps Pupillen* was Simon Willem Camerik, employed between 1856 and 1859. After he had left the school in 1859, Camerik settled in the royal town of Yogyakarta, where he was subsequently appointed "painter of his Highness the Sultan of Yogyakarta." Simon Willem Camerik was born on the island of Bangka in 1830 to a Dutch father, a medical doctor, and a Chinese mother. After the death of his mother he travelled to Holland with his father in 1838 and never received an appropriate education. Around 1850 he was running a bakery and cake shop in Amsterdam and in 1855 he enlisted in the colonial army and went to Java. In 1856 he was employed as a *teekenmeester* at Corps Pupillen in Gombang. As his salary was so low that he could not save enough money to bring his wife and son to Java as well, he left the Corps Pupillen and went to Yogyakarta to work as an independent artist. Soon he realized that the new medium photography was more in demand than painting and he opened one of the first photo studios in Yogyakarta. He was appointed photographer of the Sultan and asked to take the Javanese boy Kassian Cephas as an apprentice. Kassian Cephas finally became the first and highly celebrated Javanese professional photographer.22

#### The results of the public drawing schools in Java

Instruction in the *teekenschoolen* was oriented towards low-key careers of lower middleclass boys in the military or bureaucratic sector. The impact of the alumni of drawing schools on the arts in Java is not easy to judge as no research at all was done so far on these questions. The number of native, Javanese students was extremely low. In 1869 the district of Soemedang (200,000 inhabitants) counted 53 schoolboys and in Patti, settled by a population almost as high as Amsterdam, 81 children were enrolled in a public school!23

None of the few successful local artists of nineteenth-century Java, Raden Saleh, Jan Daniel Beynon, Mas Pirngadie attended institutional art classes. They received some instruction from travelling artists in Java or were able, like Raden Saleh, to travel to Europe and pick up a thorough art education in The Hague and Dresden. Beynon was also educated in the Netherlands. He studied at the Art Academy in Amsterdam.

23 *De Economist*, 1870, part 1, p. 249.

<sup>22</sup> Kassian Cephas might have been the first Javanese photographer. But he was not the first Javanese who produced a photograph. When the painter Raden Saleh was visited by the Italian traveler in Batavia in 1866, he handed him a photograph of his house in Cikini which he had produced himself.

Mas Pirngadie had some basic, but important instruction from Otto Carl Freiherr von Juncker Bigatto, a senior surveyor, who for some years successfully operated a private art school in Pasuruan in East Java.24

In 1882, almost 50 years after the first drawing classes were established in Batavia, a newspaper report wrote:

Drawing instructions at the first and third elementary school in Batavia has, by neglect of the instructor, more or less collapsed. Only by the end of December [1881] could another instructor restart the classes. The drawing school in Semarang counted 62 students of little talent by the end of 1881. And from Surabaya news reaches us that the drawing instruction at the government school was rather bad. Summa summarum: drawing education, a very important venue of physical and spiritual education, is in dire need of reorganization.25

#### Private drawing lessons

Besides public drawing instruction, basically oriented towards teaching professional skills for technical draftsmen, a second, private venue of drawing education existed in the colony.26 Since the early nineteenth century, drawing was considered an essential part of the education of the new bourgeois middle class in Europe, and to a certain extent in the colonies as well. The ability to draw, like the ability to play an instrument or to dance, was regarded as a core competency for educated young people, men and women alike. Friedrich Schiller's influential letters *Über die ästhetische Erziehung des Menschen* (On the aesthetic education of mankind) were known in the colony Netherlands Indies and were program for a certain sector of the colonial society.


The humanistic background of the educational program in the colony was rather similar to the one in Europe. But there was a big psychological gap between the two situations. I would like to argue that the colonizers needed and used the aesthetic because they could not claim a civic humanism derived from their daily colonial practice and existence. How can you live with slaves around your house and believe in the values of humanism at the same time? The practice of drawing, playing music and reciting poems, in one word the aesthetic, served in the colony as an anchor in troubled waters, as a self-insuring instrument and a means to construct and endure the alterity of the everyday social surroundings.

After the reorganization of the colony Netherlands East India in 1816, some artists started to migrate to Batavia to offer their services as portrait painters and art instructors. Maybe they were inspired by the success of European artists in British India in the late eighteenth century. Or they left Europe because they could not find employment in the post-Napoleonic political order, where by the end of the war too many young officers, too many medical doctors and maybe too many young artists found themselves without a proper economic perspective. Many of the officers and doctors migrated to Russia and the Netherlands-Indies. It seems that some young artists were heading the same direction.

We know from advertisements in Batavian newspapers that between 1815 and 1820, at least six young artists arrived in the Archipelago. Five of them were French, one Dutch. The five French artists came through Calcutta and/or Mauritius, the former French possession *Ile de France* in the Indian Ocean – a fact which is not yet fully understood.27

To conclude, in the early years of the nineteenth century European artists who travelled to the Netherlands Indies could hardly make a living as artists or/and drawing instructors. They usually left the colony after some short years. The situation changed after the end of the Java War (1830). Now a successful *Beamten-Staat* was established, followed by a booming colonial economy. For artists who decided to work and settle in Java prospects looked slightly better. Some could live off commissions and drawing instructions, or/and found employment in certain government agencies. Drawing as the only medium for documentation declined in importance as photography rapidly took over this field. Some of the established artists experimented with photography as well, or even switched completely to the new medium. The importance of drawing in everyday life was calibrated anew. It clearly became obsolete as a technical tool to map and reproduce images as in this field photography gained the upper hand. But drawing and painting, just like in Europe, did not disappear. It entered more and more the artistic and educational field and was recognized as an important cultural technique and *Bildungsgut.* Art was clearly understood as an aspect of modernization and by that, art practice moved up the social ladder in the colony. For some young Javanese, especially

27 See information about the French artists in the appendix.

for women, education and art education was regarded a possibility to enter modernity and an increased social status through a side door. Raden Adjeng Kartini, a young noble woman who is regarded in Indonesia as the first Indonesian who fought for female emancipation, wrote to a friend in the Netherlands:

Why did God give us talents and not the opportunity to make use of them? My two sisters have studied drawing and painting, and without any instruction, have made fair progress, according to those who know. They would gladly go on with their studies. But here in Java, there is no opportunity, and we cannot go to Europe. To go there we should have to have the consent of his Excellency, the Minister of Finance, and that we have not. We must depend entirely upon ourselves, if we wish to go forward … I draw and paint too, but take much more pleasure in the pen than in the pencil.28

Kartini claimed that her sisters and other children of the local elite did not receive drawing instruction at all. But this is not correct. Raden Kartini and her two sisters were instructed by Mrs. Ovink-Westenenk and especially Kartini's sister Roekmini developed quite a talent in drawing and painting in oil.

### The Javanese artist Raden Saleh (1811–1880) as teacher and art instructor

Drawing instruction and education in Java were clearly products of the colonial constellation. Instruction was either supplied by Dutch institutions or European artists and most of the students who followed these instructions must have been Europeans, Eurasians or Chinese. But it was not only the teachers and students who were 'European', the whole idea that drawing education could be ascribed a cultural value was a strong western concept. Modernization and a certain interest in the arts and in art education went hand in hand.

A growing number of native chiefs and intellectuals understood that education was the key to personal and social progress and that the art of drawing had to be regarded an integral part of Western knowledge. Some children of the native aristocrats had drawing instruction since around 1840 and even earlier. But it was only in the last quarter of the nineteenth century that the ability to draw was accepted as a worthwhile practice.

The Indonesian nationalist movement, which started in 1906, understood this connection very well and strongly supported the artistic education of the next

<sup>28</sup> Letter to Stella Zeehandelaar, November 6, 1899, in: Geertz 1985, p. 41.

**Fig.3** Karl Bähr, *Portrait of Raden Saleh,* 1841, oil on canvas, 86.5 x 71.7 cm, Art Museum Riga.

generation. Sukarno, the first president of the Republic of Indonesia, was himself an accomplished artist, a product of this development.

An exception to the above-mentioned rule was Raden Saleh Bustaman (1811– 1880; *» Fig. 3*).

He was born into an old Javanese-Arab family in Semarang/Central Java and since his father died young, Saleh was taken in by his uncle Surya Adimanggala, Regent of Semarang. Surya Adimanggala was a progressive native chief who befriended Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles and helped him to compile his *History of Java*. He commissioned illustrated Javanese manuscripts and might have been one of the illustrators himself. Two of his elder sons were educated at the English college in Calcutta and returned to Java as "perfect English Gentlemen". Surya Adimanggala also asked (without success) American and German Baptist missionaries to set up a printing press for him in Semarang in order to produce school books for the native Javanese.29 While the regent's sons were educated in India in order to connect Surya Adimanggala to the British colonial administration in Java, he had to find, after the Dutch returned to the Indies in 1816, another relative to be educated in the tradition of the Dutch and make sure that he could establish a good relationship with the new masters as well. His choice was his young nephew Raden Saleh and as there were no Dutch schools around, he gave him in custodial care of the Belgian painter Antoine Payen (1792–1853), an artist attached to the so called Reinwardt Commission. Professor Caspar G. C. Reinwardt (1773–1854) was appointed by King Willem I of the Netherlands to lead a commission to Java, to map the agricultural and mineral riches of the colony and report on the state of education, medical knowledge and other matters. Reinwardt was accompanied by two draftsmen, Jannes Theodorus Bik (1796–1875) and his brother Adrianus Johannes Bik (1790–1872) and the painter Antoine Payen.

The boy Raden Saleh received some drawing instruction by one of the Bik brothers before he entered a teacher/student relationship with Antoine August Joseph Payen that lasted for at least three years (1819–1822) and resulted in a lifelong bond and mutual affection between student and teacher.

The first trace of Saleh found in the archives is a letter he wrote on September 30, 1820 to Professor Caspar Georg Karl Reinwardt. In the letter Saleh reports that he lives in the *pasanggrahan* (government rest house) at the bridge over the Cikajo river, producing botanical drawings. He writes that his teacher Payen is satisfied with him and that he will soon send the drawings to Reinwardt. It is important to remember that Saleh was just nine years old at that time.

The young Raden Saleh spent the next few years in Buitenzorg and Cianjur in Westjava and after Payen had left Java for Europe, he practiced and developed his skills and also went into oil painting. Some of Raden Saleh's drawings from around 1822 have been preserved (*» Fig. 4 and 5*).

They comprise a series of watercolors depicting various kinds of agricultural equipment, as well as farmers in typical dress. These small sheets show the direction Saleh's training was meant to take. The idea was to turn him into a colonial artisan, able to document the natural resources and the ethnographic peculiarities of Java and play his part in the economic and scientific appropriation of the island.

While Saleh stayed in West Java, an anti-colonial rebellion broke out in Central Java in which important parts of Raden Saleh's family were involved. This definitively prevented the boy from returning to Semarang. He was accepted into the lower administrative service and worked as a *magat* (clerk) in Cianjur. But apparently, working as a clerk was not what Raden Saleh wanted from life. He kept on developing his artistic skills and when Karl Gericke, a German missionary who was later to become a leading scholar in the field of Indonesian studies, travelled through Cianjur in 1827, he came across a certain "Raden Saleh, a young man who paints in a remarkable way." This note indicates that Gericke perceived the young man neither as a clerk nor as a draftsman but as a painter. When the secretary of the financial department, Jean Baptiste de Linge, was recalled to Holland in 1829 to submit his report, Saleh gratefully accepted the

**Fig.4** Raden Saleh, *Weapons and Tools,* c. 1822, Watercolor on paper, 34.7 x 38.2 cm. Collection of Nationaal Museum van Wereldculturen, Leiden, coll. No. TM-H-3270i.

**Fig.5** Raden Saleh, *Teapot and Snacks,* watercolor on paper, 15.5 x 35.2 cm, Tropenmuseum Amsterdam.

offer to accompany him as his secretary on the ship Raymond. On July 20, 1829 de Linge and Saleh arrived at the Port of Antwerp.

Saleh spent the next 22 years in Europe. He was educated by Cornelis Kruseman and Andries Schelfhout in The Hague, Johan Christian Clausen Dahl in Dresden and strongly influenced by Horace Vernet in Paris. This is not the place to tell the amazing story of the young Javanese artist in Europe who later claimed, "I arrived as a Javanese in Europe and return a real German to Java."30 But we have to note that he might have been the first artist from Asia who was educated and celebrated in major European cities.

When he finally returned to his native island in 1852, he dominated the art world and market and, in a way, art education as well. He painted numerous portraits and a number of outstanding landscapes of his native Java. It was said that nobody was as good at painting the tropical light as Raden Saleh. He was respected by Javanese and Dutch authorities alike and a visit to his neo-gothic home in Batavia was a must for many travelers.

Raden Saleh also taught drawing and painting and accepted students of all the races found in the colony: Javanese, Sundanese, Chinese and Dutch. And he was the first local artist in Java and maybe Asia (except China) to develop educational material – drawing templates – for local schools.

Around the year 1860 it became evident that the colony needed a better educational system. Economic processes had become more complex and the need for an educated or semi-educated population became more pressing. It was not only a question of more but a question of better schools. And better schools needed better teachers who could fall back on better teaching material. This applied to drawing lessons as well.

Textbooks for local and native schools in Java were only gradually introduced. One pioneer in this field was Karel Frederik Holle (1829–1896) who had compiled a reader in Sundanese language. Holle adhered to the philosophy of the English utilitarian school of philosophy which believed that everything should be supported that produces the greatest happiness for the greatest number of people. For this reason, he was committed to providing Sundanese and Javanese children with a practical (agricultural) and artistic education as a better trained and better educated farmer produces higher yields which benefits himself and society at the same time. With this intention in mind, he proposed to the government that *teekenvoorbeelden* – drawing templates to help teach drawing – should be developed and printed. Initially, Holle himself created a number of such *teekenvoorbeelden*, but soon realized that it made more sense to engage a specialist to carry out the task. He thought immediately of Raden Saleh with whom he had already worked on transcribing ancient inscriptions. Raden Saleh's fame as a painter and illustrator had spread throughout the relevant strata of society and there was no-one in the colony who was his equal. Finally, Ludolph Anne Jan Wilt

**Fig.6** Raden Saleh, *Drawing Template of Tree Trunks,* Perpustakaan Nasional Jakarta.

**Fig.7** Raden Saleh, *Drawing Template of a Landscape,* Perpustakaan Nasional Jakarta.

Sloet van de Beele, Governor General of the colony asked Raden Saleh to design drawing templates for native schools as he found it inappropriate that Javanese children should practice their skills by drawing Dutch apple and pear trees.31

Most of his critics doubted Saleh's ability to do the job as a native artist was not expected to be able to understand the nature of an European textbook. At a meeting of the board of the Batavian Society for the Arts and Science in 1864, schools inspector J. A. van der Chijs presented four of the templates designed by Raden Saleh, which were met with astonished applause from all board members. His material was accepted, lithographed by W. D. Wiemans, printed at the Landsdrukkerij (state printers) in Batavia and sold to schools (and the public) throughout the colony.

A report of 1867 mentions that drawing lessons were offered at 12 regency schools in the colony and that these 12 schools each possessed one copy of Raden Saleh's drawing templates or *teekenvoorbeelden,* as they were called in Dutch. The *teekenvoorbeelden*  were produced in the form of a collection of loose sheets. 26 of these sheets survived and are part of the collection of the National Library in Jakarta (*» Figs. 6, 7*).

<sup>31</sup> Verslag der Handelingen van de Tweede Kamer der Staten-Generaal, gedurende het zittingjaar 1869–1870 van September 20, 1869 – 17 September 1870. 19th Meeting of November 11, 1869, p. 164.

Others are to be found in Leiden University and at the Staatsbibliothek in Berlin. They are proof of the high quality of drawing lesson material Raden Saleh provided for Javanese schoolchildren.

15 of these lithographs presented in the lower half of the sheet the outline of the subject to be drawn – e.g. a tree trunk with root formation and lowermost branches. The upper half then shows how the same trunk can be given shape and volume by adding color and shading.

The individual sheets guide students step-by-step, showing them how to portray stones and boulders, then wood and trees, until they are able to compose entire Javanese landscapes. The system begins with simple motifs which become increasingly more complex. I have no proof yet, but it is possible that Raden Saleh fell back on Wilhelm Hermes *Berliner Systematische Zeichenschule* templates he might have seen or owned during his time in Dresden between 1839 and 1844.

And he might as well have remembered his time in the studio of Andreas Schelfhout in The Hague. There he was expected to draw and paint the different natures of wood, like a fresh cut tree trunk in opposition to a rotten one. This task he mastered in some of his Dutch landscape paintings between 1832 and 1836 and he repeated it in his collection of templates. Besides the mentioned drawing templates, 12 further drawings by Raden Saleh were lithographed in 1864 and published under the title *Oost-Indische Boom- & Landschap-Studien. Teeken-Voorbeelden van Raden Saleh* (Saleh 1864). This collection was intended for use in schools as well, but also sold as prints in bookshops (*» Figs. 8, 9*).

The teaching material developed by Raden Saleh in 1863/64 was of very high quality and provided native students with an excellent instrument. There was no comparable development in any other colony in Asia. With his drawing templates, Raden Saleh provided Javanese schools with a treasure whose mere existence must have had an impact on the position of the arts in Java. We do not know how long these schoolbooks were used for drawing lessons and which others replaced them. However, the fact alone that very little of the 120 original copies remain shows that they were subjected to vigorous use (and wear).32 Perhaps future generations of researchers will succeed in finding traces of and assessing these drawing templates in the works of early twentieth-century Javanese artists.

In his country, Raden Saleh is called *pelepor seni-lukis Indonesia* (Pioneer of Indonesian Art), and in the same right he should be honored as *pelepor pendidikan seni rupa Indonesia* (Pioneer of Indonesian Art Education) as well. For the first time, a native of a colony appropriated an icon of European culture (formal art education) and offered it to his people. This can be regarded as a highly symbolic act of

<sup>32</sup> 1881 another 1,000 copies of Raden Saleh's *teekenvoorbeelden*, the black and white edition, were purchased by the Education Department in Batavia for 1440,00 Guilders. *De locomotief,* December 12, 1885.

**Fig.8** Title of Saleh 1864. Jakarta. **Fig.9** Lontar from Saleh 1864.

self-empowerment and emancipation, even if the original input was given by a colonial institution. The development of a local Indonesian modernity did not start before the 1930s. But the different channels of drawing instruction and drawing education that developed during the nineteenth century were essential preconditions for the later development. You need a fairly large number of people trained in the art of drawing before a pool of prospective artists can emerge. In this respect, drawing education in nineteenth-century Java, which was not discussed by art historians, colonial or post-colonial scholars sofar, has to be regarded as one of the intellectual strands responsible for the emergence of a modern Indonesia.

### Appendix

#### First group of French artists who arrived in Batavia in 1815–20

J. Briois worked for Sir Stamford Raffles in Bengkulu/Sumatra and was most probably hired by the French naturalists Diard and Duvaucel in Barrackpore near Calcutta to join them on their trip to Bengkulu in 1819.33 He produced a number of watercolors of local birds for Raffles' second collection of naturalia in 1825/26, after Raffles' huge 'first' collection of 2500 natural history drawings was destroyed in the burning the East India Man *Fame* in 1825. So far we have no idea what happened to J. Briois after Bengkulu was returned to the Dutch (1824). There are no further records that mention his name either in Batavia, Singapore or Calcutta, but the possibility that he settled in one of the cities mentioned as a drawing teacher cannot be ruled out.

H. Dorfeuille arrived in February 1818 in Batavia and introduced himself with the impressive title of "painter of his majesty King Ferdinand VII of Spain". He must have met Ferdinand VII in France between 1808 and 1813, while the king was interned by Napoleon. It seems that Dorfeuille had produced some miniature portraits of the exiled king. Dorfeuille's portraits of Ferdinand VII are yet to be localized. I believe they became marginal and inconsequential, pushed into the background after Francisco Goya was commissioned to produce his massive portraits of Ferdinand. Dorfeuille announced in Batavia that he was going to start a drawing academy, modeled on the *Academy Beaux Art* in Paris. It seems that he and his academy had no great success as he finally opened a shop in Batavia in 1822 where he sold wines, perfumes, shoes and drawing pens. In July 1824 he left the colony, disillusioned, for Europe again.

L. Thomasset, a portrait and miniature painter, arrived in Batavia in May 1818. He announced that he had come from Bengal to Batavia34 to paint portraits and give instruction in drawing to young ladies and gentlemen. He was willing to instruct his customers in their own house, or have them come to his studio at Molenvlied.35 He left Batavia for Europe in November 1820.


J. P. Giraud announced his arrival in the colony on the same day as Thomasette announced his departure from Batavia. Giraud offered the common dual service: production of portraits and drawing instruction for the public.

August Jean Latour was born in Metz around 1796 and came to Indonesia in 1818. First he was employed by the Natural Science Commission and travelled in this capacity to New Guinea. After the Natural Science Commission was dissolved, he stayed on in Java and in October 1822 offered drawing lessons to the public.36 In February 1824 he was employed as a draftsman at the botanical garden in Buitenzorg/Bogor. Some of his natural history drawings were lithographed and published in Carl Ludwig Blume's *Flora Javae nec non Insularum Adjentium* and other works.

Roelofs Kimmel arrived in Batavia in June 1817.37 Kimmel was born in Zwolle around 1775. Unlike his French colleagues, he settled for good in Batavia, got married and died there in 1831. Apparently, his success as an art instructor was limited. Besides a small boat, he bequeathed nothing else to his widow.

None of the artists mentioned exhibited outside their studios. And as far I know, no work by any of them (except Latour) survived.

#### Second group of artists from France, Belgium, the Netherlands, United Kingdom and Germany in Batavia in 1825–30

John Charles Lavalette (1800–1865) introduced himself on August 27, 1831 in the newspaper *Javasche Courant* as a painter of miniatures. He seems to have had some success as he got married in November 1834 and settled for good in the colony.38 He found employment as a draftsman with the Department of Waterways in Batavia. In February 1856 Lavalette moved to Surakarta as a temporary drawing instructor at the Training School for Native Teachers. In October 1858 he was finally appointed ordinary drawing teacher at the above-mentioned institute.39 He died in Surakarta on September 15, 1865.40


#### 144 Werner Kraus

Agatha Peter Paul Rödler was born in Mainz, Germany on February 3, 1811. He was a student of Philipp Kiefer (1784–1843).41 His brother was the landscape painter Jakob Rödler who worked in Vienna. Between 1834 and 1848 Agatha Peter Paul Rödler settled in Paris and worked as an illustrator.42 It is possible that he met the Javanese painter Raden Saleh in Paris and was encouraged by him to travel to Java, where he arrived in 1850. He settled in Batavia, but, like most artists, was forced to look for commissions in other cities (Semarang and Surabaya) as well. In 1854 he tried to start a new career as a photographer. He called his new technique *Lichtteekenen* (drawing with light).43 A. P. P. Rödler died in February 1857 in Indramayu, a small forgotten town between Cirebon and Batavia.44 At least two of his portrait paintings survived as part of a private collection in the Netherlands.

Anthony Duijshart Jr. settled in Surabaya in 1853. He was a flexible fellow; besides portrait paintings and photographic portraits he also sold locks, brandy and beer.

Jacob Janssen, born 1779 in Einlage, Prussia (today Poland), died in 1856 in Sydney. He was a travelling artist who had spent many years in North America, Brazil and Calcutta. He arrived in Batavia on May 31, 1837 from Bengal and advertised to the public that he was ready to serve as an instructor for drawing and painting in Batavia.45 For reasons unknown, he spent only four months in Java. He left for Singapore, Manila and finally Sydney in September 1837. His diary (mostly in German), kept in Mitchell Library, Sydney, is not yet transcribed and annotated. Maybe it contains notes on his stay in Java as well. One of his Indian sketch books *Costumes of Calcutta* is with the State Library of New South Wales.

Johan Caspar Müller-Kruseman: see above.


#### Bibliography


# Drawing Education at the Russian Academy of Sciences in the First Half of the Eighteenth Century

Elena S. Stetskevich

#### The early days of the Academy

The Russian Academy of Sciences was founded in 1724.1 During the first half of the eighteenth century, it was the unique scientific, educational, artistic and publishing center in Russia. The Academy consisted of different parts, including the first Russian university, a secondary school ("gymnasium"), library, public museum (Кунсткамера/ "Kunstkamera"), astronomical observatory and anatomical theater. The wide range of tasks of the Academy included the development of natural sciences and humanities, teaching of youth in science and dissemination of knowledge in the country.

Along with the cultivation of sciences, the Academy was also planned to organize the training of artistic disciplines.2 The draft regulation from 1725, which was not approved, witnesses the fixed intention to open an Academy of Arts within the Academy of Sciences. It was assumed that the Academy of Arts could be used to teach those students who express the desire to learn artistic practices, as well as those who were unable to study at a gymnasium.3 However, this intention was not implemented, as the founder of the Academy of Sciences – Tsar Peter the Great (1682–1725) – died before he could approve the regulation.

However, drawing education was included in the program of the academic gymnasium as a mandatory subject. It was taught one hour a day, four times a week, in the afternoon.4 Originally, these lessons were conducted by artists who were members of


<sup>1</sup> The 'Russian Academy of Sciences' had different names in the first half of the eighteenth century, including 'The Academy of Arts and Sciences' and the 'Imperial Academy of Sciences and Arts in St. Petersburg'.

the official staff of the Academy of Sciences. The well-known painter of Swiss origin Georg Gsell (1673–1740) and the German artist Johann Georg Brucker must be mentioned.5 Later, teaching became the responsibility of the apprentices who studied the art of drawing.

It is important to emphasize that in the first quarter of the eighteenth century, secular education in Russia was in the initial stage of formation. There were no specialized art schools in the country. It was only possible to study fine arts, especially painting, on trips for pensioners to the Western European countries or in the workshops of European artists who came to work in Russia. Only at the beginning of the eighteenth century was drawing included in the curriculum of several schools, for instance the Naval Academy and Archbishop Feofan Prokopovich's school. Furthermore, early regular drawing schools, for example, the Printing House of Saint Petersburg (1711),6 were established and several project outlines for the creation of artistic educational institutions were circulating: "The Academy of drawing" by Michael Avramov (1681–1752), the former head of the St. Petersburg printing house, "The Academy of the Art of Painting" by French artist Louis Caravaque (1684–1754),7 the Academy of Arts by Andrey Nartov (1693–1756), a talented mechanic who was the turner of Peter the Great and the head of the tsar's lathe workshop.8 However, these projects remained unrealized although it is obvious that they were known to Peter the Great.

The death of Peter the Great changed the overall situation in Russia. His successors Catherine I (1725–1727), Peter II (1727–1730), Anna Ioannovna (1730–1740) had little interest in the development of science and education. Even the Academy of Sciences experienced serious financial difficulties during their reign and for many years did not have an approved regulation. The creation of a specialized art educational institution was postponed for several decades. The teaching of drawing and other arts (engraving, sculpture, painting, architecture) was carried out in the private realm of artists' studios and in governmental institutions, engaged with matters of construction, publishing and science.

#### The drawing within the Academy

Although they did not have a particular department within the institution, artists and engravers had served in the Academy of Sciences since the first years of its existence. They were necessary to create sketches and drawings for scientific purposes as well as for the illustration of publications, prepared by the printing house, which was founded


at the Academy of Sciences in 1727. It produced scientific publications, calendars, fiction, and the newspaper "St. Petersburg Chronicle" in German, Russian, Latin and other languages.9

The progress of the scientific and publishing activities finally led to the emergence of special art workshops within the Academy of Sciences in the 1720s–1730s. During the eighteenth century they were called "art chambers" because they were located in specially equipped rooms of the academic building next to the embankment of the Neva river (*»Fig. 1 and 2*). Among those 'art chambers', there were optic, lathing, metalworking, tool-making and carpentry workshops for scientific instruments used by physicists, chemists, botanists and astronomers.10 Books were bound in the bookbinding chamber and masters of typography were running the type workshop and also practicing carving on stone, steel, wood, bone and medal.11 The book illustrations, portraits and landscape engravings were created in the engraving chamber, which developed particularly rapidly.12 Afterwards, the engravings were printed in a special workshop called "typography for engravings." Furthermore, there was a mapmaking workshop specialized in the production of geographic maps and inscriptions on engraved boards.13 Employees of the drawing chamber made all necessary drawings and illuminated prints for those differently specialized workshops. In archival documents, the first mention of the drawing chamber as a separate workshop dates back to the early 1730s.14

The art workshops in the Academy of Sciences were headed, as a rule, by Western European masters. According to the requirements by law, they were obliged to teach Russian students. Every master signed a contract with the Academy of Sciences, which stipulated all possible types of work. For the training of the students, fairly large rewards were received.15

However, up to 1738 there was no single center for drawing education at the Academy of Sciences. During this period, several students of drawing were trained in the studio of the artist Gsell and his wife Maria Dorothea Gsell (1678–1743), the daughter of the famous Dutch artist Maria Sibylla Merian.16 Georg Gsell taught them painting, and Maria Dorothea taught miniature art and work with watercolors. The students lived in the house of artists and helped them to create numerous works.17

Students of the engraving and instrumental arts attended drawing classes organized in the engraving chamber – first under the guidance of the Dutchman Ottomar Elliger (c. 1703–1735), then under the direction of the German Christian Albrecht Wortmann


**Fig. 1** The buildings of the Academy of Sciences (right) and the "Kunstkamera" (left). Detail of the engraving by G. A. Kachalov from the drawing of M. I. Makhaev. From the album of engravings "Plan stolichnogo goroda Sankt-Peterburga s izobrazheniem ego znatnejshih prospektov, izdannyj trudami Imperatorskoj Akademii nauk i hudozhestv" [The plan of the capital city of St. Petersburg with the image of its noble avenues, published by the works of the Imperial Academy of Sciences and Arts], St. Petersburg 1753.

**Fig.2** Eastern (A) and Western (B) facades of the building of the Academy of Sciences. Engraving by C. A. Wortmann, in: *Palaty Sanktpeterburgskoj Imperatorskoj Akademii nauk* 1741.

(1692–1760).18 According to the instruction of 1733, the head of engraving chamber Elliger was to teach drawing three times a week after noon as well as "drawing from life" once a week.19 Unfortunately, the archive materials do not allow us to make a final conclusion about the regularity of Elliger's classes and about the organization of the drawing lessons from life.

#### The professionalization of drawing education

In the 1730s the number of students, the volume and complexity of work in the workshops increased. Therefore, in 1738, the successful Italian artist Bartolommeo Tarsia (?–1765) – a native of Venice, who worked in Russia from 1722 – was invited to teach drawing as a separate subject at the Academy of Sciences. His lessons addressed all art students and took place three times a week, lasting two hours, since 1740 four times a week.20 From then on, the teacher of drawing at the Academy of Sciences received a salary not for the training of each individual student but for his teaching activities in general. In 1738, drawing classes at the Academy acquired a regular character. The drawing chamber, in which the classes of Tarsia took place, soon became an academic and a city teaching center. Indeed, this was a significant event in the history of drawing education in Russia.

The students of Tarsia were divided into three grades. Ten students of the third (lower) grade daily copied engravings from the famous book of Johann Daniel Preissler (1666–1737), director of the Academy of Painting in Nuremberg.21 It was translated into Russian and printed at the Academy of Sciences in 1734.22 In the educational process, the bilingual St. Petersburg edition was used because it offered parallel texts in Russian and German (*»Fig. 3*). The governing body of the Academy suggested that this manual should be used in all Russian schools as Preissler was considered the "best master" and his book was used "in other Academies",23 too. Indeed, the book of Preissler was the first drawing manual in Russia. Illustrations of the book gave an idea of the principles of the human body, of the proportions of man, of the ways of depicting figures draped with fabrics, of the distribution of shadows, etc. The printing house of the Academy of Sciences published it four times in the eighteenth century. Over time it became a deskbook for many Russian draftsmen.


23 Materialy 1885–1900, vol. 2, p. 537.

<sup>22</sup> Preissler 1734.

Twelve young men of the second grade painted plaster statues four days a week, for two hours after noon, while five students of the first (senior) grade painted from life three days a week in the afternoon.24 Engraving was also part of the curriculum of the second and first grade.

The Academy of Sciences accepted boys aged 11–14 years, able to write and read. Within two months they were tested for their ability to paint. In case of success, the boys took the oath and entered the civil service as students of the Academy. They received a salary.25

All drawing chamber students, as mentioned above, were divided into three grades. The time spent in each grade depended only on the abilities and talents of the students. In the lower grade, they copied engravings and simple drawings daily.26 The above-mentioned Preissler's book was the main manual. Each student received it.


Students of the second grade of the drawing chamber copied drawings made from life, and engravings with multi-figured compositions. The collection of "originals" (drawings and engravings) formed purposefully for more than 30 years. It started in 1737 when the Academy of Sciences acquired "different drawings" from Tarsia.27 There was no permanent schedule of drawing classes from plaster statues in the Academy of Sciences. In the 1740s students painted plaster casts for two hours after noon four days a week,28 and in the 1760s three days a week.29

The order of drawing from life studies was formed in the late 1730s – early 1740s. Life drawing classes mainly took part in the summer on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays in the afternoon from 5 to 7 pm.30

The pedagogical activity of Tarsia is practically not reflected in the sources, but it is clear that drawing from plaster statues and from life was led by him. The master of the aforementioned engraving chamber, Christian Albrecht Wortmann, and the apprentice of the same chamber Philip Georg Mattarnovi (1714–1742) taught the basic techniques of drawing as well as the copying from the Preissler illustrations to the first graders.31

#### Drawing "materials"

Despite the activities of Tarsia, the final introduction of the 'central European method' of teaching drawing is connected with the name of the German painter Johann Elias Grimmel (1703–1758), who served in the Academy from 1741 to 1758. Grimmel was specially invited to Russia in 1741, primarily for teaching and the fulfillment of any work connected with drawing in the Academy of Sciences. As an artist, he replaced Gsell, who died in 1740.

Grimmel came to Russia on the recommendation of his countryman, a native of the city of Memmingen (South Germany), the Professor of Eloquence of the Academy of Sciences Jacob Stählin (1709–1785). Stählin knew very well that Grimmel was one of the best students of the Academy of Fine Arts in Vienna. In Austria Grimmel studied painting and composition and received two academic medals for his achievements.32 In the Academy of Sciences, this artist led the drawing chamber. As a chambermaster, he was obliged to teach the art of drawing to all academic students of artistic specialties.33


Over 17 years, numerous representatives of governmental organizations as well as youths, not obliged to carry out civil service, studied in Grimmel's classes.

In the years 1758–1766, the Italian theater artist Francesco Aloisi Gradizzi (1729– 1793), a native of Venice, who had lived in Russia since 1752, took over the drawing chamber. According to the contract, Gradizzi was required to teach the copying of engravings and drawings, the drawing from plaster statues as well as from life and also the principles of composition. He had to attend the drawing chamber every day in order to examine the students' works and to present to the students "the best examples in drawing and working with ink."34

In 1749 the Academy of Sciences published a further manual about anatomy from Italy – Carlo Cesios (1626–1686) "A Clear and Fundamental Presentation of Anatomy for Painters" (St. Petersburg, 1749).35 In Russia, the German translation of Cesio's "Cognizione de Muscoli del Corpo Umano per uso del Disegno" (Rome, 1679) was published, with a preface written by Preissler.36 The book was especially important for Russia, due to the absence of special anatomical exercises for draftsmen in the first half of the eighteenth century.

The handbook of Cesio was published at the suggestion of a talented Russian engraver, the master of the engraving chamber Ivan Sokolov (1717–1757), who possessed a German copy of this book.37 The Russian edition of Cesio contained parallel texts in German and Russian. Thus, popular European tutorials were well-known in Russia and they were translated and reprinted a short time after their appearance in Europe.

At the same time, another important acquisition of educational material was made: in the 1740s–1750s French, Italian, Dutch and German engravings were bought in order to present some of the best examples to the students both in drawing and engraving.38 In 1750, for instance, 32 copies of French engravings were purchased by the Academy of Sciences for the drawing chamber. They were sent from Paris by the engraver and prints merchant J. Audran.39 In 1752, Grimmel offered to purchase abroad "good landscapes", including works by Joseph Wagner (1706–1780), printed in Venice, and a series of engravings "The Battles of Louis XIV", as well as 130 sheets of "landscapes of the most famous masters", recently published in England. It was decided to buy the necessary engravings from Augsburg or Nuremberg.40


However, the largest acquisition was made at the suggestion of Grimmel in 1757: the Academy bought 580 sheets of a "brilliant collection", compiled in Italy. This collection included "academic and other drawings of famous masters and a large number of rare Italian prints". Sixteen prints from the Italian collection decorated the hall in which the training sessions were held.41 Professor Stählin wrote that the intention was to offer the draftsmen "something for consideration, reflection and imitation".42

In 1759 the drawing chamber room was decorated with 10 artworks, representing various Italian schools of painting: "Judith with the head of Holofernes" in the style of Guido Reni, "Susanna and the Elders" in the style of Pietro Liberi, "Tarquin and Lucretia" by the artist Alessandro Varotari, called Padovanino, "Christ in the House of Martha and Mary" and "The Abduction of Europe" from the school of Paolo Veronese, "Sleeping Venus" in imitation of Tintoretto, etc. They were purchased in 1759 at an auction in St. Petersburg for the expansion of the collection of "originals" for a colossal amount of 800 rubles.43

Furthermore, students of the second and first grades of the drawing chamber drew from plaster casts, which were difficult to acquire in Russia, but the Academy of Sciences used all opportunities. Thus, in 1741 plaster busts and statues were purchased from the widow of the engraver Stepan Korovin (1700–1741), who studied in France.44 And in 1746, plaster castings were purchased at an auction in St. Petersburg, but, unfortunately, they soon burned down.45 A new collection of plaster casts was ordered in the best workshop in Holland in 1748.46 More objects were purchased later.47

Statues and low-reliefs on famous ancient and Christian subjects were at the disposal of the master and students of the drawing chamber too: sculptural groups like "Hercules and Antaeus", "Samson and the Lion", "Apollo and Daphne", "Pluto and Proserpine" as well as "heads" of Diana, Venus, and satyrs, statues of the twelve apostles and bas-reliefs of the four evangelists. The workshop also kept casted parts of the human body and plaster images of animals – fox, hound dog, horses, and lions.48 No other institution of Russia in the middle of the eighteenth century had a comparable educational collection of graphics and plaster casts.

Nevertheless, the highest step in the program for the preparation of art students was drawing from life, which was taught to the students of the first (highest) grade of the drawing chamber. The drawing from life, apparently, started in 1739 and did not


stop until the closing of the art department in 1766.49 In this context it is important to note that in Russian schools (i.e. in the drawing classes at the printing house of St. Petersburg, in the chancellery of construction) life drawing was practiced from the beginning of the eighteenth century because these classes were easier to organize than drawing from plaster casts or foreign engravings and paintings.

The models in the Academy of Sciences were serfs who had been let off by their owners to work. In the early 1740s the Academy of Sciences bought a model – Prokofiy Ivanov – from his owner because he was outstanding as a model. Thus, Ivanov became a free man. He worked at the Academy as a model and a rower on an academic boat. Subsequently, Ivanov compensated expenses for the Academy of Sciences from his own salary.50 In the spring of 1746, a second model was hired for the summer season, so the draftsmen could study two different models.

The classes of drawing from life were open to the public. Every year the Academy of Sciences placed an advertisement for these classes in the "St. Petersburg Chronicle." So, according to the announcement of 1742, Grimmel had to publicly teach drawing and painting daily from 10 to 12 noon. Residents of St. Petersburg wishing to draw a "living person" were invited to the Academy on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays from 4 to 6 pm51. Such announcements the Academy published annually.52

Serious attention to drawing from life classes is also proven by the contract of Gradizzi. According to this contract, he regularly had to organize a joint drawing with the students, teaching them by own example. Gradizzi examined the student's drawings and evaluated the corrections made by apprentices in the student drawings.53

Students of the senior grade of the drawing chamber also drew draperies, thrown on a mannequin. These "human machines" (Gliederpuppen) were brought from Germany by Grimmel and were transferred to the Academy of Sciences in 1745.54 In 1746 several draperies of different varieties were made for them.55 The first mannequins were destroyed in a fire in 1747, but in the contract of Gradizzi (1758) the drawing of draperies was mentioned again. Perhaps this artist owned further mannequins to teach the technique of depicting draperies.

Besides those educational materials and human models, each student of the drawing class received a Preissler's manual, white, gray or blue paper, a red pencil and a copper drawing pen.56 In the 1730s the Academy of Sciences received blue and gray paper for


drawing from Holland,57 until in the 1740s a factory of gray paper used for drawing from life was established near St. Petersburg.58 The type, color and quality of the paper for drawing and engraving had to comply with European norms, as the wish was for it to be exactly "like in other Academies of Arts."59 Full-scale drawings were made by students on gray and blue drawing paper with white and black "Venetian" chalk and a red pencil.60 Plaster statues were painted with black chalk.61

#### Art rooms, students, exams

In the 1730s–1740s the drawing and the engraving chambers occupied three rooms in the east wing on the second floor of the main building of the Academy of Sciences (*»Fig. 4*). On the floor plan, published in the album of engravings entitled "The Chambers of the St. Petersburg Imperial Academy of Sciences, the Library and the KunstKamera" (St. Petersburg, 1741, 1744), these rooms are marked with the letters "N", "O", "P". The "big" hall was marked with the letter "O."62 (*»Fig. 5*). The hall was the place for the common lessons for all draftsmen. After 1748, the drawing and engraving workshops were transferred to the same rooms on the first floor of the building of the Academy of Sciences.63

The youngest draftsmen copied drawings and engravings at the table in the big hall. A table with a pedestal was intended for drawing plaster casts. Over it, special lighting was arranged, and the white cloth screen avoided a change in lighting. The model was in the same room.64

Usually, before the start of the classes, Grimmel asked for certain preparations of the drawing room.65 In 1748, for instance, he asked for the windows to be covered with canvas and felt as well as for 12 chairs and 24 small benches to be arranged in order to create space for more than 30 people in the hall.66

According to the special rules of conduct in the drawing room (1745), "all the academic employees, from apprentices to the last student" were to be present in the


**Fig.4** The side facade and internal views of the building of the Academy of Sciences. The premises of the Engraving and the Drawing Chamber were located on the second floor in the right wing of the building. Engraving by I. A. Sokolov, in*: Palaty Sanktpeterburgskoj Imperatorskoj Akademii nauk* 1741.

**Fig.5** The layout of the premises of the Imperial Academy of Sciences. The premises of the Engraving and the Drawing Chambers are marked with the letters "N", "O", "P". Engraving by A. I. Polyakov, in: *Palaty Sanktpeterburgskoj Imperatorskoj Akademii nauk* 1744.

drawing from life classes. Noise, shouts and omissions were not allowed. All external draftsmen were able to attend these classes too.67

The success of students in copying engravings, drawing from plaster and nature were assessed every month through an exam. A "general examination" was arranged once a quarter. Afterward, the students were transferred to the next grade or left in the same class. Untalented persons could be "excluded" from the drawing chamber and sent to learn a craft instead, where drawing skills were not necessary, for example printing.68

Two apprentices of the art of drawing were obliged to "correct" the students' drawings, to fix the authorship of the picture, to collect, to save and to show students' works in the exams (*»Fig. 6–8*).69

During the years of studying at the drawing chamber, the students mastered the art of drawing in pencil and black chalk. In addition to that, some of the students mastered ink and watercolor techniques as well in order to draw objects in the natural science collections of the "KunstKamera," and to assist the professors of the Academy.70 But by far the most attention was paid to the training of future engravers. They painted every day and drew intensively the plaster casts and from life.71

However, only a small number of the drawing chamber students completed their training as draftsmen, and even fewer became professional painters. This was due to the fact that the art workshops made numerous practical works for the needs of the Academy and the imperial court. For example, in the workshops, albums of the empresses Anna Ioannovna and Elizabeth Petrovna (1741–1761) were created on the occasion of the coronation as well as numerous portrait engravings and vedutes of St. Petersburg.

Students of the second grade of the drawing chamber were distributed to other art workshops of the Academy of Sciences, where they began to study different artistic disciplines: engraving, perspective, mapmaking, carving in stone and wood, etc. At the same time, two or three times a week they continued to attend classes in the drawing chamber72.

The Academy freely allowed students to expand the boundaries of learned skills in accordance with their desire. For example, the student S. Fedorov studied drawing for four years, then engraving for a year, and completed his education by studying stone carving and medal art.73


**Fig. 6** Drawing by an un known chamber's student: Marsyas, mid-eighteenth century. SPbB ARAS, R.IX, Op.3, No. 38, p. 1 (in: Stetskevich 2011).

**Fig. 7** Drawing by S. Lapkin, a student of the drawing chamber, according to Johann Daniel Preissler's manual, signed "Painted by the disciple Semen Lapkin", mid-eighteenth century; SPbB ARAS, F. 3, Op. 1, No. 223, p. 182 (in: Stetskevich 2011).

**Fig. 8** Drawing by S. Lapkin, a student of the drawing chamber, according to Johann Daniel Preissler's manual, signed "Painted by the disciple Semen Lapkin", the mid-eighteenth century; SPbB ARAS, F. 3, Op. 1, No. 223, p. 185 (in: Stetskevich 2011).

**7**

**6**

**8**

The drawing chamber trained not only academic students but also employees of various governmental organizations, such as the Synod, the Mint office, the Chancellery of Construction, the Admiralty, the Heraldry Chancellery, and others.74 Officially, the training was free to those attendees, but the governmental organizations paid all expenses for the maintenance of their students, for instance the purchase of teaching aids, paints, pencils, brushes and paper.75 After completing their studies at the Academy of Sciences, the students returned to their organizations. Thus, the arts division of the Academy of Sciences, primarily the drawing chamber, to some extent played the role of an academy of arts.

#### The last decades

In the 1740s–1750s the arts chambers of the Academy of Sciences reached its peak in development because in 1747, Empress Elizabeth Petrovna signed the first regulation in which she doubled the funding of the institution and added new staff members to the art workshops. The regulation also changed the name of the institution into "Imperial Academy of Sciences and Arts in St. Petersburg." In the Empress' decree of 1747 the different art workshops were even addressed directly as "Academy of Arts." According to the regulation, "students from all over Russia were to be admitted to the Academy of Sciences to study all the arts […] sponsored by the institutions to which they belong." All individuals, except for serfs, were also able to study civilian sciences and arts at the Academy of Sciences and Arts free of charge.76

After 1747, new teachers appeared at the Academy: the Italian artist Giuseppe Valeriani (c. 1708–1762) taught perspective and painting, the German sculptor Johann Franz Dunker (1718–1795) taught modeling, carving in stone and wood, and the architects Johann Jacob Schumacher (1701–1767) and Savva Chevakinsky (1709/1713–c. 1780) were hired to teach the principles of construction. Grimmel, the head of the drawing chamber, remained the principal drawing teacher.

In 1748, the assembly of the Academy of Arts was created in order to improve the management of the institution. The assembly distributed students to classes and masters, conducted exams and assessed the quality of works made by craftsmen and apprentices of the Academy. In 1757 Stählin was appointed "director" of the Academy of Arts.77 Under his care were all fine arts – engraving, carving, drawing, etc. He paid a lot of attention

<sup>74</sup> Stetskevich 2011, pp. 186–223.

<sup>75</sup> Materialy 1885–1900, vol. 4, pp. 505–506.

<sup>76</sup> Istorija Akademii nauk SSSR 1958, pp. 436, 448.

<sup>77</sup> Stählin closely studied the development of the fine arts in Russia and composed Zapiski (The Notes), in which he described the development of painting, engraving, sculpture, architecture, medal art in Russia in the eighteenth century; Malinovsky 1990.

to the correct organization of teaching.78 In the 1740s to the first half of the 1760s, the Academy of Sciences expanded the number of students studying the arts. In 1758, according to Stählin, 95 students worked and studied at the Academy simultaneously. 40 of them were trained in the drawing chamber, i.e. by far the largest number of students, 24 in the engraving chamber, 16 in the sculpture chamber and 15 in the carving chamber.79 The Academy of Sciences also organized the first government-sponsored trip to Western Europe in 1757. The apprentice of the art of carving Mikhail Pavlov (1734 – after 1784) and a student of the drawing arts Nicholas Bahturin were sent to Paris where they were supposed to improve their drawing and carving skills.80

In March 1759, the first two award medals for the encouragement of students were announced in order to honor the best students in the six-month examinations.81 This is important to note because it proves the introduction of elements of encouragement in the Academy of Arts within the Academy of Sciences that were used in the Academies of Fine Arts in Western Europe, too.82

Despite those manifold processes of improvement, radical change was about to come in the late 1750s which affected the development of art education in Russia. In 1757, at the initiative of the favorite of Empress Elizabeth Petrovna, Ivan Shuvalov (1727–1797), an independent Academy "of the three most important arts," i.e. painting, sculpture and architecture, was founded in St. Petersburg. The new Academy received the patronage of the Empress, excellent funding and the best teachers available. It was not burdened by a complex structure of different workshops and began to develop rapidly and successfully. The new Academy was based on the principles similar to those of the French Academy of painting and sculpture. Gradually, the best employees and students of the art workshops of the Academy of Sciences were transferred to the new Academy of Arts.83

Under this competitive pressure, the Academy of Arts within the Academy of Sciences began to decline rapidly in the early 1760s. In 1766, the staff at art workshops was significantly reduced. The new master of the drawing chamber, the Italian painter and draftsman Francesco Gandini (1723 – after 1778), a native of Bologna, complained in 1766 that it was impossible to find students in the workshop after noon anymore, and that the model was so fat that it was impossible for him to conduct drawing from life.84 In the second half of the 1760s, drawing from life at the Academy of Sciences finally ceased to exist, which affected the whole educational process negatively.85


In the second half of the 1760s the drawing chamber and the art department of the Academy of Sciences completely lost their former importance as the center of art education. The number of academic students significantly decreased. The drawing chamber no longer accepted external students and representatives of other governmental institutions of St. Petersburg. The former system of teaching was completely destroyed. The activity of academic draftsmen and engravers after 1766 was focused only on the production of scientific drawings and illustrations.

#### Conclusion

Summarizing, it should be noted that in the first half of the eighteenth century the Academy of Sciences was a major center for the training of masters of art. In the drawing chamber, dozens of young men, who made up a significant part of the artistic estate of Russia, learned the art of drawing.

The Academy of Sciences was the first institution in Russia that could independently produce educational literature on drawing. Prominent Western European manuals were translated and published. The Academy possessed an excellent collection of graphics and a significant collection of plaster casts. The practical and theoretical aspects of the preparation of students of fine arts were sufficiently balanced. The artists who headed the drawing chamber successfully used and disseminated European methods of teaching drawing.

The Academy of Arts, which existed in the Academy of Sciences from 1747 until 1766, was in fact a complex of art workshops. Its main task was to train as many practitioners as possible. However, the activities of the Academy of Sciences had largely prepared the creation of an independent Academy of Arts in Russia, which, as noted above, was founded in 1757 and made the old institution unnecessary.

### Bibliography


# Drawing Books and Academic Demands in the Viceroyalty of Peru

Veronika Winkler

An impressive series of thirty-eight paintings depicting the life of St. Augustine are encountered upon entering the cloister of the Augustinian monastery in Lima. Basilio Pacheco and his workshop from Cusco produced these paintings between the years 1742 and 1746, based primarily on the prints of the Life of St. Augustine made by Schelte a Bolswert in 1640.1 The third picture of the cycle, which does not depend on Bolswert's prints, generates particular interest (*»Fig. 1*).

In this scene, we witness young Augustine joining the university. The professor speaks from his lectern, addressing an audience of young men or boys sitting around him in a highly decorated classroom full of study objects. In fact it is not necessary for the future saint, on the right, to study as his inkpot is the only one that has fallen down. The sign of his genius is his hat with a feather. Meanwhile, his fellow students, who are not enlightened with God's wisdom, work diligently with their study objects.

To define this scene iconographically causes no difficulties because the observer can read an explanation of the scene inscribed on the bottom of the painting:


Having been sent by his parents to the University of Madasco [Madauros], Augustine attended the schools of Democrates for some time, but more for fulfilling the duties of a participant than for needing the doctrine that was dictated there because the saint confesses that he learned the Liberal arts without being taught by another, and this indicates the carelessness while attending the class of his master.2

The text mentions its source as the *Confessions*, the autobiographical writings of St. Augustine, where we can read a passage that parallels the inscription on the painting:

Whatever was written, either of the art of rhetoric, of logic, whatever of geometry, music, and arithmetic, I attained the understanding of it by myself without any great difficulty or any instructor at all, as thou knowest, O Lord my God; even because the quickness of conceiving, and the sharpness of disputing is your gift […]3

Basilio Pacheco complements the intellectual scene with narrative elements drawn from the *Confessions*: a bookcase is placed behind Augustine with important texts of the ancient world, volumes of Greek, Hebrew and Latin, of Plato, Aristotle and Cicero.4 The classroom or university room, as a place to learn the liberal arts, is also shown to the spectator. Over the cornice stand seven personifications of the liberal arts: (from left to right) *Pictura*, *Musica*, *Rethorica*, *Arx Logica Artium*, *Aritmetica*, *Astrologia*, *Geometria* (*»Fig. 2*).5 In addition to the liberal arts mentioned in Augustine's *Confessions*, the two personifications of *Pictura* and *Astrologia* were added on purpose either by the patron who ordered this painting or the painter himself. Almost every personification can be associated with a student or an object in the classroom. Significantly, the personification of *Pictura* corresponds to the two young men in the front row. One boy is pointing at *Pictura* while the other one holds a paper in his hands with drawings of two eyes, lips and a human face (*»Fig. 3*).


**1**

**2**

**3**

**Fig. 1** Basilio Pacheco, *Augustine going to university*, 1742–1746, oil on canvas, cloister of St. Augustine, Lima (Author's photography with the courtesy of the Order of St. Augustine, Lima).

**Fig.2** Detail of Fig. 1: Personifications of the liberal arts (Pictura, Musica, Rethorica, Arx Logica Artium).

**Fig.3** Detail of Fig. 1: Two students showing a paper with drawings of two eyes, lips and a human face.

The scene of *Augustine going to university* is rarely depicted in the history of art. There is no other case of this image type known in the Viceroyalty of Peru.6 Due to the fact that the scene was also not part of Bolswert's prints, we must ask why the patrons wanted this particular event of Augustine's life to be retold in the convent of Lima. The patrons are known because Pacheco portrayed them in the first painting of the cycle, next to the genealogical tree of the Augustinian Order (*»Fig. 4*). On the right we see Friar Roque de Yrarrasabal y Andia, who was the Augustine provincial of Peru during the time these paintings were created; and on the left, Friar Fernando de Luna y Virues, the prior of the Augustinian convent in Cusco who commissioned and financed the painting cycle. The inscriptions corresponding with both figures start with the formula "Portrayal of…" and enumerate their titles.7 The text reports that both earned a doctoral degree in theology at the University of San Marcos in Lima. It appears that the erudition of the patrons motivated them to order that a university scene be included in this painting cycle. Friar Fernando de Luna y Virues, who commissioned the cycle in Cusco, could have worked out the program for this specific picture based on the *Confessions*. But why did he wish to add painting or drawing to the liberal arts?

Basilio Pacheco could also be responsible for the iconographic variation in the painting by inserting the idea or demand that painting or drawing belongs to the liberal arts. Fortunately, he also immortalized himself in this life cycle of St. Augustine, in the scene in which the saint is buried. Basilio Pacheco appears in the role of a donor, next to his signature in golden letters (*»Fig. 5*). He altered Bolswert's print by placing himself instead of the beggar figure. In a proud presentation the setting was changed to stress the origin of the painted cycle. Instead of reusing the city landscape from the print (of the antique city of Hippo), Cusco's cathedral and Main Square serves as a background.8

Former scholars interpreted the painting *Augustine going to university* as a visual record of a local classroom in the Viceroyalty of Peru because the religious Orders did

7 Inscriptions: For the prior of the province (left): "Retrato de N.R.P. Mro F. Roque de Yrarasabal, y Andia, natural dela Villa de Deva; de la Prov.a de Guipuscua, sita enla gran Cantabria. D.or Theolog.o y Cated. de Visp. de Dogmas de N. o.P. S.n Aug.n en la R. U. de S.n Marcos. Calificad.r del S.o Ofi.o y Pri.or Prov.l de esta Prov.a dl Per.u en cuio religioso gobierno se pinto esta Vida y colocò en la forma q està." Prior of the convento of Cusco (right): "Retrato del N.R.P. M.o F. Fernando de Luna y Virues, D.or Theolog.o en la R.l Univ.ad d. S.n, Marcos, Califi.or del S.to Oficio, y Vic. o Prov.l dela Prov.a de Arriba. Exam.or Sinodal de Arzobipado de la Plata, Prior del Conv.o del Cusco, donde mando pintar esta Vida asu costa."

8 Mesa/Gisbert 1982, p. 202.

<sup>6</sup> For images of St. Augustine in Latin America, see Schenone 1992, vol. 1, pp. 92–118. In Europe there is only one fresco (*Augustine going to universit*y) painted by Ottaviano Nelli (c. 1400). Nelli painted this picture more than 300 years before Pacheco; the pictures do not correspond iconographically. See Courcelle/Courcelle 1965, Planche LXXVII. In most depictions of Augustine participating in the education system, he was brought to the grammar school by his parents and not to university, see the volumes of the Courcelles.

Drawing Books and Academic Demands in the Viceroyalty of Peru 171

**4**

**5**

**Fig.4** Basilio Pacheco, *The genealogical tree of the Order of Saint Augustine*, 1742–1746, oil on canvas, cloister of St. Augustine, Lima (MacCormack 2010, p.89, Fig. 1).

**Fig.5** Basilio Pacheco, *Augustine's funeral*, 1742–1746, oil on canvas, cloister of St. Augustine, Lima (MacCormack 2010, p. 89–118; p. 90, Fig.2).

offer education for the elite.9 In the specific case of the Augustinian Order in Lima, there is an allusion to real circumstances. The Augustinians founded a college in their convent in the year 1612, which they called "university." However, it was only for their friars and not for the elite of young men.10

An alternative reading of the painting *Augustine going to university* will be proposed here by framing the picture in the context of artists' education, their status within society, as well as the role the church played in the artistic production within the Viceroyalty of Peru. In the first part, the article will briefly summarize what is known so far about the painter's education related to drawing in the art centers of viceregal Peru. In the second part, a new aspect of drawing education will be added by arguing that drawing books arrived; a new genre invented by artists for persons who wanted to practice that art. The following case studies will reflect on the impact of these specific books by analyzing how individuals transferred and shaped drawing books' content into their artworks. In doing so, this article will contribute further considerations about the painter's (self-) representation and his profession in the Viceroyalty of Peru. Finally, the last part will outline the fundamental stages in the development of informal art academies in Hispano-American countries in order to propose a different reading of the picture *Augustine going to university* and to rebut José de Mesa and Teresa Gisbert's assumption that academic demands were not present in Cusco during the period of the Viceroyalty.11

#### Painters' education in drawing

The painter's education, as well as the organization of the artists' workshop in general, is in large parts still a puzzle or enigma for Latin American art historians due to the fact that today almost no records of workshop activities exist – like account books, tools for certain techniques or other materials. So far, previous studies which reconstruct the painter's working conditions in the art centers of Viceroyal Peru from archival notes can provide some information about trainees.12

After the conquest and settlement, painters came from Europe to Peru. They worked in cooperation with religious institutions, opened workshops in different urban centers and trained apprentices. Contracts of apprenticeship do not differ substantially


<sup>9</sup> The Courcelles locate this classroom in the seventeenth century while MacCormack sees in the picture a depiction of an eighteenth-century classroom. Courcelle/Courcelle 1991, p. 30; MacCormack 2010, p. 92.

from Spanish or European ones. Rather they repeat the established system in which the master takes care of the apprentice, including his material and spiritual needs and his education in the master's art, in exchange for a helping hand in his studio.13 Beside the preparation of colors14 and linens, apprentices would copy models provided to them by the master, as in Europe. Only occasionally did contracts vary from their standardized form, revealing certain insights into teaching methods. For instance, one contract in Cusco from 1694 emphasizes that the apprentice should excel at drawing the saints:

[…] And I confer and give Blas de la Cueva Mercado […] at the age of sixteen as an apprentice to Francisco Rodriguez de Guzmán, master and painter of canvas, so that he teaches him the named profession of a painter, drawing with all perfection the bodies of male and female saints. Painting and observing the named canvas, engraving and gilding without hiding him anything for the time of six months so that he became a master and can work on his own […].15

This emphasis on learning how to draw bodies of saints and not the human figure could be an adaption to certain circumstances that in viceregal Peru most of the commissions for paintings demanded saints. But even though contracts of apprenticeship indicate that the formal and legal parameters of the painter's training were approximately the same, differences result in the actual execution. One of the most considered points in Latin American art history are unfair conditions and discrimination against "non-white" artists, resulting from the multi-ethnic society of viceroyal Peru, which was "divided not only by class but also by race."16 Among the trainees were not only *criollos* (Spaniards


born in Peru) but also indigenous peoples, individuals of African descents (*mulattos, negros, sambos*), and *mestizos* (individuals of mixed race) who played a subordinated role at the beginning of the Viceroyalty period. However, over time they strived to become masters (examined or not) and opened workshops themselves.

Our knowledge of the painter's legal, economic and social organization within urban centers of viceregal Peru also remains fragmentary. Most of the cities did not have a guild for a long time or never had one at all. The painters organized themselves in alternative corporations, like brotherhoods, which was also common in Spain and Europe.17

In Lima thirty-two masters of painting, polychromy and gilding founded a guild in the year 1649. The guild's ordinances followed the Sevillan model. A preceding lawsuit seems to have reinforced the painters will to protect their profession against commercial rivalry and to ensure certain quality standards. In the lawsuit four masters,18 who were also founders of the guild, complained about Diego Calderón's painting trade. Calderón was a priest who paid four officials and a carpenter to assist him in copying paintings in his home. A similar case is known from the year 1638. One paragraph of the ordinances referred directly to such industrial painting businesses. The passage prohibited any painter or gilder from working in the home of a carpenter, a cleric or friar.19

Further, the ordinances established rules for the final exam taken by prospective masters. The exam requires a painter to draw an "entire human figure, another from the bust up and another in half profile, and finally one from the back with all the parts of the body in conformity with symmetry and art."20 He would have to do the same with the bodies of a woman and a child. Afterwards the examinee has to make a painting with one or more nudes, executed in oil, fresco or in tempera corresponding to his art training.21 The theoretical part of the exam consists of questions about perspective, the use of color and the preparation of the canvas.22 The rules for the exam indicate that the founders of the guild considered drawing as a necessary skill to become a master in painting.23 The question as to whether the founders of the guild already practiced


this education in their workshops or traced an idealistic model for the future cannot be answered. The fixed examination procedure attests the installation of quality standards probably in order to prevent competition from semi-professionals, autodidacts and traders like the cleric painter Calderón.

Another aspect of Lima's guild ordinances is the discrimination against individuals with African descent. They were banned from becoming workshop apprentices whereas indigenous people were allowed. In practice things were different. There is notarial evidence that a minority of blacks participated in workshops, and later in the eighteenth century they succeeded in having their own workshops.24 The cleric painter Diego Calderón also continued to work. When the master painter Gregorio de la Roca drafted his last will before the authorities in 1657, he claimed the return of a picture which he had lent to Calderón for copying.25

On the one hand, it is possible that the guild members did only apply their own regulations when they thought it necessary. The art market was big enough and the constant demand for paintings allowed the coexistence of all kind of painters, professionals, copyists and traders. Only at the end of the 17th century did paintings from Cusco start to flush Lima's art market. With the formation of the guild, the founders could have rather wanted to contain and socially marginalize painters who were 'non-professional' in their opinion. In the end, the guild rules could have served as a control instrument to ensure that the best commissions were for their own members, as in Spain.26 All these assumptions would need further archival proof. On the other hand, it is possible that the guild of Lima was never formalized.27 One main contributor to offer money for the establishment went bankrupt. Luis Eduardo Wuffarden supposes that other masters of the initial group went to work in Cusco as there was a high demand for artists after the earthquake in1650.28

For Cusco it is documented that a guild of painters did exist before the year 1688 when, after a conflict with Spaniards, permission was given to indigenous community to separate itself from the guild and found its own.29 Although for the guild in Cusco


there are no ordinances left, Mesa and Gisbert assume that they were similar to the ones in Lima. Further, they believe that once the indigenous and *mestizos* had their own guild or association in Cusco, they abandoned principles like perspective and drawing human bodies.30 In conclusion, these art historians define stylistic consequences (*mestizo* painting), which has been doubted as well as refuted. Fernando Valenzuela rebutted a stylistic consequence resulting from the schism of the guilds. By comparing the artists' guild with other guilds, he assumes that the guild in Cusco was weak, and Indians "enjoyed high levels of freedom prior to their separation from the guild."31 In addition, Valenzuela argues with the centrum-periphery model therefore stating that the local style in Cusco is the result of its great distance to art centers.32 Wuffarden questions that paintings from indigenous or Spaniards can be separated at all because ethnic categorizations are not always certain and somehow artificial.33 However, the autonomy achieved by the indigenous painters in Cusco led among other circumstances to an expansion of artist's workshops, and paintings from Cusco were exported throughout the Peruvian Viceroyalty, like the painting cycle from St. Augustine made by Basilio Pacheco.

Beside the archival evidence that drawing was partially a training exercise in the Viceroyalty of Peru, some drawings exist which must be interpreted in this context. When the paintings of the life cycle of the Dominican Order in Cusco were pulled down, some drawings were found on the back of the linen. However, because of an unfortunate restoration policy, some originals are lost.34 Mesa and Gisbert, who saw the drawings before the restoration, provide a textual description and reproduced one picture in their volume.35 They classified the works as preparation for the paintings in the years before

pp. 137–138; Damian 2004, pp. 62–63. For the latest discussion of this event, see Valenzuela 2010.


1687 and attributed the designs to José Espinoza de los Monteros and his workshop, because Espinoza signed the verso of one painting.36 Their records relate that beside the sketch of a man, other drawings were included: a signature of the artist, an angel and a face, a rider on a horse, two male figures, a frontal depiction of a male figure, a figure on a horse between two men (one standing and the other kneeling), one hand, details of female faces, and a study of a drapery.37 It seems unlikely that these designs are preparatory for the drawings. The sketched man does not correspond to any figures in the painting series.38 And if these designs were preparatory in some way, they only could be studies of a tiny part of these nearly two-by-two-meter paintings. Another explanation for the presence of the designs could be that linen canvas was rare and expensive, the back of a painting, which actually is never meant to be turned around, proved a useful surface upon which to experiment with designs. The fact that other sorts of drawings are no longer extant in large artistic centers like Cusco or Lima does not lead automatically to the conclusion that drawing was not practiced. Even if artists used or were urged to use prints as patterns for the paintings, it seems unlikely that the transfer from a book-size print to a two-by-two-meter painting could be done without any preparation.39 Gauvin Alexander Bailey states that artists in Latin America drew directly on canvas, however future technical investigations such as reflectography will shed more light on this subject.40

Fortunately, the only remaining anthology of drawings from Latin America survived until our days.41 The 106 drawings are attributed to the painter Gregorio Vásquez de Arce y Ceballos (1638–1717), who had a studio in Santa Fé de Bogotá.42 They are made


on European fiber flax paper. Most of them were drawn with brush and pigmented oil.43 If we examine the style of these works, it seems that the drafted lines in most of the works do not search for a form but already perfectly express the intended shape. About half of the drawings are repeated in Vásquez paintings; some are in full-scale or reversed and suggest various transfer methods.44 Some drawings could have been reused, for example the drawing of one face is the same for the painted canvas of St. Francis and St. Dominic.45 All these phenomena suggest that the drawings either come from the artist's model book offering a variety of different forms46 or are a collection of patterns based on Vásquez's paintings.47 The most relevant issue in this article is the fact that not every sheet corresponds to a perfect shape or finished composition. A few drawings record experiments and the training of immature artists, therefore showing training skills. In fact, the cluster fragmented body parts correspond to the practice of the ABC Method, showed and exercised by the drawing books, which will lead to the next section (*»Fig. 6 and 7*).48

#### Drawing books and their impact

The developed drawing book genre offers how-to-draw instructions in printed form by providing theoretical reflections and visual pedagogical principles for a wide range of drawing topics.49 The first drawing books emerged in Germany in the first half of the sixteenth century around the intellectual circle of Albrecht Dürer.50 In the next century they came into fashion with publications across the whole of Europe and kept on spreading until the twentieth century. Jaap Bolten differs between the model book, which "is merely a storehouse of iconographic and formal elements" mostly "intended for a restricted circle of users" in the studios, and the drawing book with its teaching intentions meant to be publicized for an audience.51 Within the drawing books, the "ABC Method" became the most influential drawing approach with its progressive


**Fig.6** Gregorio Vásquez de Arce y Ceballos/ Workshop, *Feet and Hands*, seventeenth century, drawing, Museo Nacional de Arte, Santa Fe de Bogotá (Alcalá 2014, p. 38, Fig. 17).

**Fig.7** Gregorio Vásquez de Arce y Ceballos/Workshop, *Study of Feet*, seventeenth century, drawing, Museo Nacional de Arte, Santa Fe de Bogotá (Toquica Clavijo 2008, cat. Fig. 64.1).

stages for obtaining drawing skills, beginning with the human eye and advancing with different body parts until the human figure is mastered.52

There is evidence showing that these artistic guide and pattern books entered the Viceroyalty of Peru like other prints. However, the purpose of their introduction and the impact on local art production and perception will be analyzed. One of the first drawing books to arrive is Juan de Arfe y Villafañes' *Varia Commensuracion para la Esculptura y Arquitectura* (1585–1587). This was a manual on proportions in architecture, the human body and animals.53 Arfe y Villafañes' depiction of a rhinoceros, copied from Albrecht


Dürer's print, served as a model for the mural paintings in the house of Juan de Vargas, a royal scribe in the town Tunja.54 Unfortunately, the artists of the murals remain unknown. Most scholars consider that the iconographical program of these murals was planned either by the patron or his humanistic circle because of archival notes from their library.55 Like the rhinoceros from Arfe y Villafañe, a few other motifs of European prints were used for this complex program, a mixture and reinterpretation of elements from the 'New and Old World' that displayed the patron's imaginative world: American flora and fauna, African animals, antique deities, and Christian saints.56

In addition to individual humanistic enterprises, drawing books might have actually been used for artistic education in the Peruvian Viceroyalty. Luisa Fiocco Bloisa discovered a packing inventory of books and other equipment from the Jesuits in the year 1630. The administrator of Seville Father Fabián López sent these goods in 38 boxes to the general administrator of the Peruvian province in Lima, Father Alonso Fuertes de Herrera, in order to distribute them between the colleges of the province.57 The great majority of the books are for liturgy (bibles, breviaries, and diurnals) or with dogmatic, devotional and moral content. Some objects indicate didactical purposes, for example four wax figures of the four last things, two wax figures of children showing different emotions and 400 prints of the Guardian Angel.58 Other entries point out the Jesuits' humanistic interests involving editions about poetry, emblems and the Trajan's column.59 For inquiries about drawing

2009 and Thürigen 2014. For Arfe y Villafañe's dependence on Albrecht Dürer and others in the way he constructs the human body, see Portmann 2014, pp. 135–153.


education, one record calls attention, "1. Book of hand drawings for painters with prints […] 80 R."60 Without having the materials' evidence, it is difficult to identify if this entry refers to a model book, a drawing book, or something in-between. On the one hand, the Jesuits could have obtained papers of hand drawings from one or more artists and bound them together with some prints to a book. It is also possible that they acquired a model book from an artist's workshop which was already bound. This would explain why the notary did not cite a title or at least an abbreviated title of the book. On the other hand, all inventory entries are missing accurate bibliographic data and the books are listed either with an abbreviated title or described by their content.61 Therefore the notary's description of a drawing book as a volume of printed hand drawings intended for painters is indeed precise. Another argument in favor of a drawing book is the price listed as 80 *reales* (the currency of those days). The supposed drawing book is in the normal upper-middle price segment compared with other books from the inventory which contain precious prints.

In conclusion, it seems very likely that the Jesuits brought a drawing book as an instructive guide for painters or individuals who want to learn drawing to the Viceroyalty of Peru. They were among the religious orders which made great efforts on artistic education and had strong ties to Italy where this new genre began to become popular at the beginning of the seventeenth century.

Although drawing books were dedicated to a wide range of users – amateurs, gentlemen, artists and instructors – their concrete uses are debated among scholars.62 In two Spanish art theoretical treatises the drawing books were actually included in the guidance chapters to become an artist. The first mention is made by Jusepe Martínez,


griegos liricos 2 [...] = 110 R\_U 110". The emblems are from Andrea Alciati, and according to the entry only four emblems were sent, see f.7 box 45: "1. Emblemas de Alciato 4° Vit = a 5 en 20 R \_U 20." For the books about the Trajan's column, see the records on f. 6v box 39: "1. Coluna trajana con todos sus triumphos [...]" and f. 7v box 47 "1. Libro de la coluna trajana = en 100 R\_U 100".

who gives the following advice in a chapter entitled "About drawing and the ways to work with them in good imitation," within his manuscript (c. 1673)63

First of all, one should start making eyes, noses, mouth, ears, hands and feet and, when he grows more skillful, he should devise heads in order to understand what he has done when viewing it all together. Afterward he should draw legs, arms and bodies. Having accomplished this, he should take whole figures, and put them into effect. (…) For this task it will be advisable to use some books with prints entitled *principles of drawing* which exist in prints made by great men; and with such guides he will do his drawings more easily, and without tiring his master.64

Martínez repeats the common step-by-step ABC Method that trainees should start with the eye, followed by important face features, until every part is mastered. But he already regards the drawing book as an expedient tool for training artists, revealing maybe an already ongoing practice in Spanish studios.65 The sheets from the workshop of Gregorio Vásquez de Arce y Ceballos in Santa Fé de Bogotá discussed above indicate that such drawing instruction books were also used for art education in the Viceroyalty of Peru.

It is very likely that in the Ibero-American world, the drawing books were used by the artists in studios. In the Viceroyalty of Peru they could have been provided not only by patrons or artist-masters but also by religious orders.

The theoretical reflections on art practice visualized in the form of elaborated compositions and motifs in these manuals as well as the migration, adaptations or reinterpretations of these motifs into other pictorial contexts demand further consideration.

Precisely the frontispieces, created by the artist or publisher, give an impression of the content of the book by revealing theoretical and programmatic thoughts on the first picture. There is a multitude of options: from portraits of famous artists, symbolic figures, and personifications of *Pictura*, *Sculptura*, and *Disegno* up to insights into

65 As Hellwig points out, the fixation of Spanish art theory in the seventeenth century happened closely to real circumstances, see Hellwig 1996, p. 15.

<sup>63</sup> The other mention is made by Palomino in his *Museo pictórico y escala óptica*, see Vega 1989, pp. 2–8; Matilla 2012, pp. 140–148.

<sup>64</sup> The manuscript of Jusepe Martínez, *Discursos practicables del nobilísimo arte de la pintura* remained unpublished. Martínez 2008 (1673), pp.19–20. Title: "Del dibuxo y maneras de obrarlo con buena imitación". Text: "Primeramente pondrase a hacer ojos, narices, bocas, orejas, manos y pies y, en estar algo diestro tomará cabeças de por sí, para comprehender lo que tiene obrado viéndolo todo junto. Luego tomará piernas, braços y cuerpos. Esto hecho, tomará figuras enteras, y las pondrá en ejecución. [...] Para esta empresa convendrá se valga de unos libros de estampas llamados *principios de dibujar*, que los hai impressos de hombres mui grandes; y con esta guía hará sus dibujos con más facilidad, y sin cansancio del maestro."

idealistic studios with working students or beginners.66 These beginners are students or putti showing their drawing activity or their first drawing results. For instance, Stefano della Bella's drawing book (1650) represents two young students in his frontispiece (*»Fig. 8*). One student is sketching with a pen, while the other is watching over his shoulder. In the front, a paper is showing their results, the ABC of body parts. The age of the children in combination with the pictorial ABC allegorically signal the beginning of the art of drawing. Perhaps Federico Zuccari created the earliest elaborated personification of these beginners in his palace where he frescoed a program in the S*ala del Disegno* (c. 1598). In the center of the ceiling fresco is father *Disegno* surrounded by his daughters *Architettura*, *Scultura*, and *Pittura*. The little putto sits between father *Disegno* and *Pittura* and is showing his principles, a paper imaging an eye, ear and lips.67 This configuration echoes the Italian art theory and Zuccari's own theory that drawing is the foundation of all arts beginning with the pictorial ABC.68 In seventeenth-century Spain a "reduced drawing theory" arose that underscored the importance of drawing, but mainly for painting.69 This fact is due to the circumstances that the Spanish art theorists were painters and therefore interested in painting becoming part of the *artes liberales*.70 Basilio Pacheco visualized such an elaborated personification of beginners within his painting *Augustine going to university*.71 The painting illustrates one boy or beginner in the front row holding the pictorial ABC in his hands so that the spectator can see the depiction of two eyes, lips and a human face. The other student is pointing at the personification of *Pictura* in the cornice. This pictorial argumentation reveals Pacheco or/and Friar Luna y Virue's knowledge and affirmation of the idea that drawing is the basis of painting. Moreover, the transfer to a historical narration relating to a university scene creates at the end the further statement that painting belongs to the liberal arts.

Looking closer at the paper the boy is holding in his hand in Pacheco's painting (*»Fig. 2*), we can see a face of a child, an image which possibly comes from Michael Sweerts's drawing book *Divers faces for use by the young and others*, printed in Brussels in 1656.72 In both cases, the facial features as well as the haircut of the boy correspond


**Fig.8** Stefano della Bella, frontispiece from *Livre pour apprendre a dessiner, mis en lumier*, c. 1650, etching, Kupferstichkabinett, Karlsruhe (Schäfer 2005, p. 114, Fig. 30a).

(*»Fig. 9*). Two other etchings by Sweerts – his self-portrait and a man with a boy – were used as a model for a prominent painting as will be presented below (*» Fig. 10 and 11*). Sweerts etched both prints based on two of his paintings. The etchings were not included in the drawing book composed by him, but could have been added later as it was quite common to set up reprints by including a compilation of different motifs by famous artists.73

The two prints were remixed for a painter's depiction in the first painting of the cycle of St. Francis in Lima (*»Fig. 12*). The man on the chair with the boy eating and standing next to him served as the composition, but instead of the man smoking, the self-portrait of Sweerts holding the painter's tools (brushes and palette) was chosen. While the connection to Sweerts' prints remained unknown, scholars consider the portrait as a self-portrait of Francisco de Escobar. This assumption results from the discovered contract of the painting cycle – each of the four assigned masters had to execute the paintings for one wall of the cloister. Escobar had to paint the childhood of St. Francis.74 Beside the fact that he executed this painting, Escobar was also among the leading masters of Lima signing the formation act of the guild in 1649.75 Paradoxically, the guild banned artists of African descents from becoming masters. However, Andrés de Liévana, a slave and artist master called "*moreno*" in the contract – which indicates his African ancestry – was among the other masters executing the paintings

figures, see also Bolten 1985, pp. 96–99, 254–255 and Yeager-Crasselt 2015 (Michael Sweerts), pp. 102–106.


**10**

**12**

**Fig.9** Michael Sweerts, *Bust of Boy,* from *Diversae facies in usum juvenum et aliorum delineatae per Michaelem Sweerts*, 1656, etching, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

**Fig. 11** Michael Sweerts, *Man Smoking, Seated in an Armchair*, 1656, etching, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

**Fig. 10** Michael Sweerts, *Self-portrait,* 1656, etching, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

**Fig. 12** Francisco de Escobar, *Prophecy of the Coming of St Francis,* c. 1671, oil on canvas, cloister of San Francisco, Lima (Wuffarden 2014, p. 313, Fig.9).

**9**

**11**

of St. Francis' life.76 As he had the status of a slave, his owner Francisco de Liévana had to sign the contract. Nevertheless the contract indicates that all four painters received the same amount of money and had to paint the history conform to the indications of Friar Juan Benavides.77

For the interpretation there are two options. On the one hand, we can interpret the artist's portrait as a proud self-representation of Escobar. There are several facts in favor of this as he is the executer of the picture as well as among the leading artists in Lima. Even though the self-portrait of Sweerts served as an archetype of a painter's picture, Escobar could have modeled it by painting his facial features and his clothes. But unfortunately, there is no other extant portrait of him to compare, neither for any other painter in Lima of that time. On the other hand, we can assume that this painting is a commissioned work whose content Friar Juan Benavides created and therefore provided Sweerts' prints. The depiction of the painter would then serve as *pars pro toto* for his profession and in this way stand for all (four) artists participating in the painting cycle or for the artist painting images of St. Francis. Without a doubt, the artist's archetype depicted in the painting is the "white artist." But whether this portrait represents Escobar or the "white painter" as a *pars pro toto* for the painter's profession, the message despite the ethnic component would be the same. Without painters, there would be no pictures. Next to the textual tradition (right side on the painting) is the pictorial tradition to complete the saint's life with the visual evidence. The painted icon of St. Francis with his golden ground is an effort undertaken by painters.78 Within the pictorial argumentation, it claims the same importance for the painting transmission as for the written one.79 Even when some motifs are copied, the innovative ways in which they were transformed and reinterpreted is astonishing.80

Scholars compare the proud presentation of Escobar's (supposed) self-portrait with that of a knight or a court painter.81 The visual association with this certain portrait type


**Fig. 13** Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala, *Painters*, from *El primer Nueva corónica y buen gobierno*, c. 1615, drawing, The Royal Library, Copenhagen (Wuffarden 2011, p. 252, Fig. 183).

seems to be correct. Sweerts, according to his own words, had been knighted by Pope Innocent X when he was in Rome. Back in Brussels he painted a proud self-portrait that has been interpreted as the visual statement of his ennoblement.82 Furthermore, he made an etching based on this self-portrait, most likely to spread his fame – indeed his self-portrait arrived on the other side of the Atlantic.

There is no doubt that drawing books exerted a diverse array of influences in this milieu, not only by transmitting visual patterns but also by promoting painters' prestige of their professional status. But in fact to fully understand this solitary painter's portrait from Escobar, as well as the implications and also rejections of western concerns of art, we must look to Cusco's traditions as to how the artist and his profession were represented.

One of the earliest or perhaps very first depictions of an artist made in viceregal Peru was produced around 1615 (*»Fig.13*). Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala, an Indian of noble descent, wrote and illustrated a history of Andean societies before and after the

<sup>82</sup> In the petition Sweerts submitted to the Brussels city magistrates for certain privileges for his drawing academy, he mentions his new honorable rank as a knight. Yeager-Crasselt interprets the painting of Sweerts self-portrait (after which the etching was made) as the visual result of that social prestige; see Yeager-Crasselt 2015 (Pride and ambition), p. 156.

conquest, sharply criticizing the Spaniards' colonial system.83 His manuscript is unique in that it is made from the perspective of a native who was raised in the Christian faith and worked in the viceregal administration.84 Chapter 23 is about the parish priests, religious orders and their abuses of authority. The last section discusses natives' assistance in the work of the parish, and addresses painting as a profession. The title of the subchapter about painters enumerates: "PAINTER: ARTISANS, PAINTER, sculptor, woodworker, embroiderer in service to God and the Holy Church."85 In the drawing under the title, two hispanized indigenous people are painting the crucifix.86 The main text corresponding to that subchapter starts in the verso of the drawing.87 Guaman Poma emphasizes that the art done by Christians is a service to God: he paraphrases the council decrees of the Counter Reformation.88 Further, he writes: "This art is to be learned by emperors, kings, princes, dukes, counts, marquis, and other nobles throughout the world."89 Guaman Poma's statement reveals his awareness of the widespread strategy of defending the nobility of art by using the argument that art is an aristocratic exercise.90 The following text describes parish churches with images, ending with social conflicts of native painters like payment claims and problems with being drunk. Drunkenness was a stereotype usually attributed to the Indigenous. Nevertheless Guaman Poma accused all painters, even if they were Spaniards, of being idolatrous when they worked on holy images in an inebriated state.91 To sum up the written content, one could say that it begins with idealistic topics and ends with social


ones offering different aspects of the artist's profession. By contrast, the related drawing underscores the service to God embodied by the natives who are working devotedly on the holy cross. Rolena Adorno's investigations demonstrate that the collaboration or contradiction between image and text is chosen intentionally by Guaman Poma. He uses the visual evidence and power of images to soften or amplify his written critique without offending the Spanish King Philip III, to whom his chronicle is dedicated.92 The native artists in this drawing are not depicted as drunk, softening the critique appearing in his text (only for them, not for the Spaniards!). Rather, they are shown as pious people, adopting the ideal posture of veneration. Also they are not shown as upper-class natives. If he had wished to illustrate this aspect of artists' nobility, he could have easily depicted noblemen, as he did in other chapters.93 It is also crucial that none of his five self-portraits show him engaged in the work of writing or drawing but rather depict him presenting his volume to the Spanish authorities and collecting the oral information for his chronicle within the Andean population, where he is always in noble dress.94

In summary, Guaman Poma traces the ideal of a good Christian artist.95 This hardly seems surprising because as soon as art training began in the Viceroyalty, it was connected to Christianity. The purpose of art and pictures, in his view and that of post-conquest missionaries, was to convince potential converts to adopt the Christian faith. The artist in the act of creating holy images gains nobility. In Cusco, there is further pictorial evidence of painters' representation. In the ongoing centuries the painters seem to stress both: their devotion and their noble standing in society. The devotion of the artist's attitude is signaled by his donor posture.96 Wuffarden has also proven that indigenous people of noble descent chose the profession of painting to gain prestige.97 Artists added *don* (Spanish noble title) or *inca* (belonging to the former Inca royalty) to their names to sign pictures and express their (self-elected) noble status within the society in the tradition of the "pintor noble."98


The differences and similarities in the way in which the artist is presented by Escobar and Pacheco are striking. Devotion to church service and holy objects are depicted by both. Escobar takes – or was asked to do so – the posture from a European print of a proud painters' self-portrait, remodeling it to underscore his importance or that of the artist in general in the visual transmission of saints' lives. Pacheco demonstrates his personal devotion by assuming the guise of a donor portrait, which claimed a highly esteemed role and tradition within paintings in Andean society.99 The attribution to the painter's person is only established in one case: Pacheco signed his donor portrait. Both pictures express the artist's nobility: Escobar's artist through dress, posture and painters tools, and Pacheco in a subtler way. Pacheco places his self-portrait and signature just above the word *noblesa* (nobility), a word which comes from the description written in the image.

#### Academic demands in Hispanic culture

In a humanistic spirit, the antique model of the academy was reawakened and transformed in sixteenth-century Italy.100 From Italy these ideas arrived in Spain. Sebastián de Covarrubias Horozco incorporated the word "academia" in his dictionary of the Spanish language from 1611, well aware of its antique origin and already distinguishing this from its current use:

Academia was a place for recreation and a forest that was a thousand steps away from Athens, named after the hero Academo: and because Plato was born in this place, where he taught to large audiences: his pupils were called Academics, and today the school, or house, where some intellectuals come together to discuss, acquires this name, and gives it to the participants. But among the Latins, this means the universal school, which we call university.101


As Covarrubias clearly points out, (informal) academies in his time were mere meetings of intellectuals discussing their chosen topic. They had no statutes or fixed rules that state academies would later on obtain. The introduction of artistic academies in Spain was shaped by contact with Italian artists who came there to work, by Spanish artists who returned from studying in Italy, and by an acquaintance with Italian art-theoretical literature.102 In the year 1603 one document reveals an artists' petition from Madrid to the Spanish king for royal patronage of their academy of St. Lucas, a name likely chosen as an allusion to the *Accademia di San Luca* in Rome.103 The king's patronage seems to fail. Therefore, in the year 1606, artists who had participated in the earlier petition, together with Vicente Carducho, signed an authorization and three contracts with the friars of the convent of Victory, the Order of Minims, to found their own academy of St. Lucas in the convent.104 They stated their desire to "found a house of the academy where we can study and draw in the named art of painting in the night and the day time and in other hours."105 It remains unknown whether the academy was indeed installed in the convent. In the first third of the seventeenth century, there were several other attempts to gain royal patronage for an art academy without further results.

Nevertheless, in the second half of the seventeenth century, some private endeavors took place elsewhere. An important figure in this regard is José García Hidalgo (1645–1718), who composed a drawing book (1693). Although it was never printed officially, he seems to have sold samples.106 Besides instructions for drawing the human body and geometrical advice on perspective, García Hidalgo gives insights into Valencian


academic activities.107 In one passage he reveals information about an informal academy in the Convent of the Dominicans:

The sumptuous Convent of the Dominicans has in this city chairs of all sciences, and also a capacious lecture hall where the painters hold their academies, which we Castilians and Valencians attended, along with some gentlemen and clergymen, who, out of interest and curiosity, came together to draw, see and hear; but the competition and virtuous emulation were so high that in the seven or eight years when I was there, there had been three academies, so luckily every night there were two [meetings]: one of the Valencians and another of the Castilians, and on Sundays and holidays everyone came together in the aforementioned convent, and on the days of St. Luke a great feast was celebrated for the saint evangelist with great authority and with a mass, sermon, music […].108

Although García Hidalgo might exaggerate the academy's success, it is interesting to note that not only the convent offered a space for its activities but also that ecclesiastical and secular amateurs attended these meetings. Given its proximity to the university, the convent of the Dominicans seemed to be an appropriate place for artistic academic activities.109 García Hidalgo's programmatic engraving of a drawing class might depict a similar situation – draftsmen arranged around a human model (*»Fig. 14*).110


**Fig. 14** José García Hidalgo, *Academia de dibújo*, from *Principios para estudiar el nobilísimo y real arte de la pintura*, 1693 (García Hildago 2006 [1693], p. 11).

It is surely not a coincidence that Francisco Meléndez, one of García Hidalgo's students, became an important figure for the history of the art academy.111 In 1726 Meléndez again began an initiative for a royal art academy in Madrid. This was followed by a second proposal from the Italian sculptor Domenico Olivieri, and the academy *La Real Academia de Bellas Artes de San Fernando* was finally installed, after a long preparation process, in 1752.112 With this state academy the arts became institutionalized according to fixed rules, following the French academic model.113

In the Viceroyalty of Peru, the first secured record of academic efforts in artistic drawing education is from the year 1791 when José del Pozo, a "professor of Painting, individual of the Royal Academy of Seville" opened a drawing and painting school with the authorization of the viceroy Gil de Taboada y Lemos in Lima.114 Nevertheless the information


<sup>111</sup> Interestingly, Ceán Bermúdez wrote only in his manuscript and not his final printed version that Meléndez attended García Hidalgo's school in Madrid. See Ceán Bermúdez 1794, p. 179r.

that Spanish or European (art) academies or drawing schools existed must have been entered in the Viceroyalty of Peru before that time and in several ways. As discussed above, drawing books did arrive in the Viceroyalty. These manuals are entangled with the history of art academies as many of the artists who composed these books were leaders, members or associates of academies and fixed their ideas about drawing methods (in academies) in their manuals. Intellectuals, clergymen and artists who came to the Americas could have brought the interest to found academies or were already members of academies in Europe.115

As a matter of fact, toward the end of the sixteenth century the *Academia antártica* (Antarctic Academy) was created in Lima. Spaniards and *criollos* founded a literary community of writers and intellectuals. Significantly, in the ongoing centuries some viceroys had literary academies in their court following the model of the Antarctic Academy.116 Nothing is known about viceroyal support for art academies although a prominent petition for royal patronage of art took place in Lima in the year 1659. During the public celebration for the birth of the prince Felipe Próspero, the painters of Lima created an allegorical parade float inspired by the prints from Vicente Carducho's treatise. The painters decorated the float with an allegory of painting related to the Spanish monarchs and personified as the teacher of the new-born prince. A poem glorifies painting as a liberal art.117

The image of *Augustine going to university* (*»Fig. 1*) also demonstrates that painting belongs to the liberal arts and should be further practiced at university. It is possible that the Augustinian friars were already offering some convent space to artists or amateurs so that they could practice. As the history of informal academies in Spain shows, determining factors in the success of such foundations were securing appropriate spaces for their activities – like convents – and finding wealthy patrons. Friar Fernando de Luna y Virues, the prior of the Augustinian convent in Cusco who paid for the painting cycle, might have been the patron of such intellectual meetings. In this way the question who inserted the *Pictura* personification in the painting – Pacheco or Luna y Virues – would be irrelevant. As a joint venture the informal academy in the Augustinian convent would be a profitable relationship for both sides. The artists could practice their arts with (the advice of) clergymen. By sending the painting to Lima, Fernando de Luna y Virues

The continuing history of the formation of the official state academy is another complex history entangled with struggles for national independence. For further information, see Estabridis Cárdenas 2004; Wuffarden 2014.


could have promoted the academic activities in Cusco to the Augustine provincial of Peru Roque de Yrarrasabal y Andia.

If this informal academy did not exist, the image at the very least attests to Pacheco's wish to found one. It is central that this painted petition is situated in a university of antique knowledge and that it refers to the origins of Plato's academy by including his name in the painted books.118 Pacheco also depicts the university or academy in a way that corresponds to Vicente Carducho's description of academies' rooms. Carducho portrays in his treatise *Dialogos de la pintura* the Florentine academy of Cosimo de' Medici, which was equipped with "huge copies of statues, books, globes, spheres, and other mathematic instruments."119All of these academic instruments can be found in the painting of *Augustine going to university*, and their presence supports the thesis that Pacheco is depicting or advocating the founding of an institution of drawing education in the years he painted this cycle (1742–1746). Closer to Pacheco's time would be Antonio Palomino de Castro y Velasco's treatise *El Museo pictórico y escala óptica* (1715–1724), but contrary to Carducho, Palomino does not describe any academic room. Palomino emphasizes that painting is a science and it has to be taught in a university as in the academies in Rome, Florence, Venice and Paris and in some parts of Spain. The theoretic sciences to be thought parallel to painting are mathematic, optic, geometry and arithmetic, which demonstrates Palominos emphasis on perspective.120 He moreover gives instructions as to how a life drawing session in the academy should be realized.121 Pacheco included the personification of geometry and arithmetic, which could lead to the conclusion that perspective should be part of the academy. But the painting does not demonstrate life drawing classes to master drawing the human body; instead students would have to follow the instruction of the ABC Method by copying the body parts. Without a doubt, the picture *Augustine going to university* indicates Pacheco's knowledge of art academies.122 Furthermore, the picture demonstrates Pacheco's ability to transform and reinterpret this concept to better suit the Peruvian context.

One allusion to New Spain (modern Mexico) will intensify and sum up certain aspects for a conclusion (*»Fig. 15*). In the painting by an anonymous artist, the creating act of the *Acheiropoieta*, the icon of the Virgin of Guadalupe, is demonstrated.123 In the celestial studio, God the Father adds his final polishes to the Virgin, assisted by two

118 In the bookcase behind Augustine there is one book by Plato (Platonis Opera).

119 Carducho 1979 (1633): on pp. 62–66 he described the florentine academy: "En otra quadra vi una Catedra, adonde se leen liciones desta facultad, que la adornan grande copia de estatuas, libros, globos, esferas, y otros instrumentos Matematicos. En este Catedra leen lecciones, no solo Pintores, mas tambien Escultores, Arquitectos, e Ingenieros; hazense anotomias, dibujase del natural."


**Fig. 15** Anonymus from New Spain, Godfather painting the Virgen of Guadalupe, eighteenth century, oil on canvas, Museo de la Basílica de Guadalupe, Mexico City (Cuadriello 2001, p. 173, cat. 50).

putti. One putto grinds the colors while the other is training himself in the principles of art, the ABC of the body parts, as apprentices would have to do in real studios. In the background, atop a podium lies a paper with the drawing trials. The interesting pictorial arrangement transports various messages: first, the idea that the artist's training begins with drawing in the exercise of the ABC body parts. These principles are also related to academic or scientific institutions, shown in the background of the painting through the podium in its classical form. In the history of informal academies in New Spain, the artists who were involved in these foundations were also consulted for the scientific examination of the miraculous image of the Virgin of Guadalupe that appeared in the Viceroyalty of New Spain.124 The elevation of the painter's social status is based upon the good Christian painter in compliance with the *topos* of *Deus Pictor*.125 Both painters – the anonymous one from New Spain and Basilio Pacheco – hold their pictorial discourse of the art's ennoblement in relation to religious images and in combination with private academic efforts.

<sup>124</sup> For a discussion on informal academies in New Spain, see: Ramírez Montes 2001; Mues Orts 2001, Cuadriello 2001.

<sup>125</sup> Cuadriello 2001, pp. 141–146.

#### Bibliography


from 1794, Biblioteca Nacional Madrid, Ms 22487.


*Seventeenth Century Madrid,* in: Storia dell' Arte 98 (2000), pp. 76–87.


*lightenment versus local tradition, 1750–1825* (pp. 365–401), in: Alcalá, Luisa Elena and Jonathan Brown (eds.): *Painting in Latin America 1550–1820*, New Haven 2014.


# Drawing, Copying and Pedagogy in Mexico's and Brazil's Art Academies

Oscar E. Vázquez

One of the principal aims of the conference *Drawing Education: Worldwide!* was the exploration of relations between drawing and artistic pedagogy across the globe. In keeping with this purpose, this chapter will examine the lines of genealogies and indebtedness in the conception of academies, and the differences that regionally specific artistic pedagogy and regulations may have exerted on the very materiality of artistic productions. To put it another way, the lines I trace here are as much empirical on paper as they are ideological in terms of the copies of models onto a colonial site. By copies, I refer, on the one hand, to the academic curricular practice of drawing copies of prints, plaster castes and *écorchés*, as well as, on the other, to the replication of institutions. These were institutions premised on the creation of original art but whose curriculum – paradoxically – was based on notions of copies and imitation. I will not delve into the lengthy trajectory of the philosophical theories concerning mimesis and imitation as that would lead us well beyond the parameters of this essay. Instead, I point to these institutional contradictions – the teaching of the creation of originals via a process of copying – by way of asking where the difference between these similarly based artistic products and their institutions lies. The question of copies is especially crucial to the cases of Latin America in point here because so much of the early historiography of colonial Latin American art concerns copying (namely of the transfer of themes and formal languages from Europe).

In this chapter – which emerges from an in-progress book project on academies of art in Latin America – I will focus my discussion on the specific case examples of Mexico's and Brazil's academies of fine arts, and their statutes in relation to European models. Mexico City's was the oldest and most significant, royally sanctioned academy in the Americas while Rio's offers a useful imperial contrast to other monarchical and national lineages.1

<sup>1</sup> There were several earlier schools of art, of course, such as the sixteenth-century Colegio de San Andrés in Quito, but Mexico City's San Carlos Academy was the first in the Americas to

The pedagogy of copying, along with statutes, decrees, and other administrative documents, worked to construct 'copies' – not always equal in Latin America – of European academies of art that served as their models. On the one hand, copying was a tactic that allowed for the institutionalization of Spain's powers over its colonies by the extension of official regulations. The duplication of curriculum across academies, and the repetitive training exercises, on the other, ensured that the vision of elites would be extended and propagated across all local schools.

While research has been completed on the academic artistic training and the founding statutes of the royal academies in Mexico and Brazil, I wish to bring these two elements of training and statutes together. The very attempts to regulate these institutions through statutes, and their implementation through curricular practice needs to be more carefully examined for these regional cases. I argue that the practice of drawing through copies was integrally tied to the replication of academies as an institution. In order to argue my case, I will first tackle the practice of drawing copies as central to an arts academy curriculum, then proceed to examine how that practice is related to academic statutes.

#### Drawing and copying as pedagogy

In regard to the academic curriculum, proficiency at drawing the human figure, as is well-known, was a requirement for artists in order that they would be able to fulfill commissions of the highest valued subject categories of history, allegory and religious painting and sculpture. As such, the copying of the human body was placed – both literally in terms of space and figuratively in terms of power – at the center of an academy curriculum. This placement and privileging of the live model was a purposeful, politically symbolic sign of power; for the use of life models was the exclusive domain (in many countries, by law) of royally sanctioned academies in the West; a privilege that had distinguished academies from guilds since the seventeenth century, and that was a legal distinction that continued well into the nineteenth century in many countries. It further helped maintain control of student populations, and of who could or could not progress to become 'master' painters with access to the most lucrative of patrons and commissions.2

The curriculum was a sequential, methodical, and disciplinary one. It began early in the student's academic career with drawing from prints, then on to plaster copies of antique statues and, finally, to the live human figure to produce *académies*, as the drawing of a nude model was called. And this would be well before the student

2 Boime 1994; Nochlin 1988.

receive *royal* sanction and support. On the origins and historiography of this Academy, see: Hernández-Durán 2017; Báez Macías 2009; Báez Macías 2005, p. 28; Pérez 1871, p. 139.

was even allowed to pick up a brush. As such, drawing was the central pedagogical tool through which this system functioned.3 Akagi and Yamaguchi have shown that this was a method – a sequential system, the roots of which were with Pestalozzi – that was extended into Japan by the late nineteenth and into China in the early twentieth centuries.4 In Japan and in other countries, the sketches, curriculum plans and general administration of art schools were, for the most part, freely selected and adopted. In contrast, in Mexico and other Spanish colonies, the models were not only prescribed but mandated by royal decrees. This is not to say that local actors and audiences were passive receivers of the mandates of the colonizer or central government.5

In Mexico, and as described from the very first documents for the creation of an official academy in 1783 (what would become a few decades later the Real Academia de San Carlos de Nueva España). Students would begin the three- to four-year course of studies in painting with a regiment of copying of geometric shapes, followed by copying of fragments or body parts often from engravings or plaster casts. In the second level, the copying would proceed to the drawing of full stucco models, and finally in the third year, drawing the live human figure in postures often based on antique statues, plaster copies of which were also to be found in the academy collections.6 This system of creating drawings based on copies of antique plaster casts continued well into the twentieth century in Latin America as manifest by the photographs of student works from the School of Fine Arts in Costa Rica (*» Figs. 1 and 2*).

Likewise, for the case of early nineteenth-century Brazil – then, the seat of the government of Portugal and its dominions – the importance of copying through drawing is emphasized in repeated passages of the 1816 proposal by Joachim Lebreton (1760–1819) – who formed part of the so-called 'French Mission' called to Brazil to create various cultural institutions – including an Academy of Science and Arts. In keeping with current academic practices, the curriculum was divided into three levels starting with the basic drawing of geometric shapes, and copying based on engravings, and then onto the life drawing of the model in the atelier under the direction of a history subject painter.7 The 1820 and subsequent statutes and reforms continued to


<sup>3</sup> Anton Raphael Mengs, who was called to the Madrid Bourbon court of Carlos III in 1761, had made his case for the centrality and importance of drawing less than a decade earlier. Müller-Bechtel 2013.

**Fig. 1** Photographer unknown, *Trozo de la exposición de dibujos de la Escuela de Bellas Artes*, in: *Pandemonium. Revista Quincenal Ilustrada de Ciencias, Letras y Artes,* 9.109 (April 25, 1914), p. 363.

**Fig.2** Photographer unknown, *Otro lado de la exposición*, in: *Pandemonium. Revista Quincenal Ilustrada de Ciencias, Letras y Artes,* 9.109 (April 25, 1914), p. 364.

situate copying through drawing, particularly of the human figure, at the center of its curriculum.8

The entire arts pedagogy of the academic system in these two early Latin American academies was dependent upon an increasingly standardized formula of repetition and copying with a special focus on the drawing of the human figure. As is clear, the primary role of drawing as a pedagogical tool cannot be separated from its methodical application of copying. Part of the reason for the primacy of the use of drawing in this method is, of course, a practical and economic one: in terms of daily pedagogic practice, it was not possible to produce copies in other media so readily and on a daily basis (for example, sculpture); the slower execution in other media would have been a disadvantage not only in terms of the speedy progress of classes of students, but also detrimental to the belief in repetitive exercises as a vehicle for the development of eye-hand coordination. Even so, we might see that time and economy also had their regulating effect. This methodical application of drawing and copying was, indeed, part of a system of disciplinary apparatuses that Foucault states was based upon the three instruments of hierarchical observation, normalizing judgment, and

<sup>8</sup> The importance of the nude is underscored in the Brazil academy's 1820 Statutes (article I, no. 4) by it being required one hour a day for students: *Estatutos da Imperial Academia e Escola das Bellas Artes, 1820*, transcribed by Alberto Cipiniuk in: *Dezenovevinte. Arte no Brasil do Século e Início do XX*: http://www.dezenovevinte.net [20.6.2016]. The 1831 reforms by Jose Lino Coutinho added anatomy and physiology to the requirements (chap. II, article 2) and spoke of the necessity of copying from plaster casts (chap. II, article 5), reproduced in *Dezenovevinte. Arte no Brasil do Século e Início do XX*: http://www.dezenovevinte.net [20.6.2016].

examination.9 Students in these types of centralized systems, that must include art academies, would be judged and ranked through constant observation, testing, and record keeping.

Teaching was based on the principle that the students proceed from "the part to the whole."10 A new structural relation between theory and practice was also set up, whereby the codification and examination of the parts would not be explained without the ensemble (and vice versa).11 This method of academic training was a bit like the method of Dr. Frankenstein, whereby artists attempted to infuse the life of the *beau ideal* into an otherwise cadaverous assemblage of purely 'imitative' or copied parts. The process of assemblage and animation – that is, of learning the act of original creation – therefore began by copying (with graphite or *conté*) fragments and ultimately the live model.

As I have argued elsewhere, the highly structured system in these academies was further supported by a number of tools including training manuals and even the very design of the classrooms.12 Through the mandated selection of anatomy manuals, models, positions and specific plaster casts, many of which were copied in drawings again and again, a uniformity of design was established.13 But the uniformity of students' drawing was further ensured through the interior layout of life drawing classrooms where controlled amphitheater-style assigned seating, not to mention the occasional use of manipulated lighting, constructed the students as a holistic body and guided their views toward producing similar representations of the nude model positioned at center stage. It was a performance that allowed the academy to assert and replicate its own power, quite literally, as students were taught to draw academies within the real and politically symbolic center of the academy. In other words, this system was a tautology that reified the very centrality of the academies distinguishing power, namely, drawing from the life model.


#### Mexico's & Brazil's statutes

If the curriculum was based on systematic and repetitive exercises of copying focused on the drawing of the nude human figure, and reinforced through the very physical organization of the academic life drawing room, then we need to see how that curricular practice of copying was itself an expansion and replication (at least in administrative bureaucratic terms) of academies from Europe to the Americas. Filtered through centuries of philological and philosophical debate concerning mimesis – again beyond the limits of this essay – the question of imitation and copies appears in the statutes and foundational documents in terms of ascribed origins, and in terms of curricular practices within these institutions. Although there were earlier royal decrees, the statutes were *the* authoritative code of the Academy and determined much of the politics and curriculum for how art should be produced at those important sites. Drawing and copying were at its center.

The founding statutes of Mexico's Real Academia de Bellas Artes de San Carlos published in 1785 state explicitly that the institution was to be modeled on Spain's already well-established academies, namely Madrid's San Fernando academy, and to a lesser extent, Valencia's San Carlos Academy.14 They state that Mexico City's academy statutes and organization "should be as uniform as possible with those of the Academy of San Fernando [Madrid; O.V.]".15 Indeed, a quick look at the statutes of the Madrid academy reveals in certain sections an almost word for word correspondence to those of colonial Mexico.16 Evidence of duplication is further supported by the fact that Jose Antonio Gil, the likely writer of the Mexican academy's statutes, brought a copy of the San Fernando academy statutes with him from Spain to serve as a model and reference.17


In regard to Brazil's case, the Imperial Academy emerges, like Mexico's, out of similar proposals for a school with 'double' purposes; that is, a school for professional mechanical training that required practice of drawing (that would serve nationalist and mercantilist causes of liberation), and one with aesthetic theoretical concerns for upholding traditions and continuity, and at the service of elites who controlled government and businesses.18 What is curious and significant of three of the most significant foundational documents of Brazil's academy is the changing attributions to an original model. The statements of the earliest official proposals for an arts school in 1816 drawn up by Joachim Lebreton specifically gave praise to Mexico, the oldest official academy of the New World. Quoting the naturalist explorer Alexander von Humboldt, he argued that Mexico's Academy of Noble Arts owed its existence to Mexican patriotism, and argued that Brazil merited an art school of its own, concluding Mexico was the appropriate model and that the establishment of the academy in Rio "would happen as occurred in the capital of Mexico, with few modifications".19 Interestingly, the Brazil academy's decrees four years later (1820) no longer point solely to Mexico as an inspirational model as had the earliest drafts but instead state that Rio's Academy should be founded on the model of the English Royal Academy (founded 1768).20 This is all the more curious given that much of Rio's academic reforms of 1831, as Rocha Leite and others have shown, were largely based on French models and, later, the system of the Ecole de Beaux Arts. Copying through drawing continued to be at the center of the curriculum as well.21 Rivalries among French and Brazilian artists and administrators aside, scholars have shown that the variations in attributions of original models for the Rio academy can also be explained by Brazil's shifting political alliances between

academy was born out of the metal casting and engraving talents of Gil, who had been engraver to the Spanish king. Gil arrived in Mexico by 1778 in order to supervise metal casting in the Casa de Moneda (the mint) and there he opened a school of engraving which would become the foundation of the future academy. The first motion to transform the school of engraving into an academy was made in 1781 by the director of the Casa de Moneda (Fernando Jose Mangino) to Viceroy Matías de Gálvez. The charters were printed in 1785 and Gil became director. On Gil and the connections between the engraving school at the mint and the origins of the academy, see Donahue-Wallace 2017, especially chap. 4.


France and England during the years following the defeat of Bonaparte, and the restoration.22 Yet, my point here hasn't been to find a true, original model or source in any of these academy cases but rather to examine the lineages of attributed sources in the statutes and decrees in relation to manual copying within the academy.

#### Differences in the statutes and copies

We thus have a series of significant documents detailing the founding of two of the most important art academies in Latin America, and which make claims of these institutions being copies of earlier models or of each other. In the case of Mexico, its statutes mandated that the academy be copied based on Spain's. In the case of Brazil's, we have seen multiple attributions for the sources of the Rio de Janeiro's academy, even while the founders often point to artists from other nation's academies as better models. We have also seen how curriculum helped control the production of copies. But a tracing of genealogies of the statutes, and the actual copied lines on paper also begin to manifest differences between the originating model and subsequent copies.

Indeed, there were differences produced by the copying of statutes as well as in the copying that took place in the drawing classroom. For example, one of the principal differences between Mexico's and Spain's statutes was the extra measures of disciplinary powers – including corporal punishment and incarceration – given to directors in Mexico's academy statutes, but which are absent in Spain's.23 That difference also helps explain not only the correlation between correction as pedagogy and discipline as colonial violence, but the shifting political situation between Spain and Mexico. The differences suggest that adjustments in Mexico's copy of the Spanish statutes were necessary for academic practices to be adapted to the different political and social demands of colonial and national powers.

In terms of life drawing techniques, finished paintings and sculpture, many of the students' productions from specific periods *appear* formally similar across academies. Various scholars of the case of Brazil have examined some of these differences among academic drawings. They have analyzed the representation of Native American or Afro-Brazilian human figures in Brazilian and Mexican painting. For example, while indigenous models were frequently used in certain Latin American academies' drawing classes, their ethnic and racialized features were erased and rarely appeared in finished canvases placed on public display in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries.24 Beginning in the middle of the century, and through the later nineteenth century, however, *indigenismo* and nationalist currents as well as naturalism in the

24 Dahn Battista 2011; Dias 2007.

<sup>22</sup> Dias 2004.

<sup>23</sup> Vázquez 1999.

pictorial arts produced an inversion: in later nineteenth-century productions, the previously antique Greco-Roman or European ideal on painting (even when based on an indigenous live model) became the indigenous Latin American subject on a finished canvas or in marble. That is to say, naturalism and realism had allowed for a greater representation (alongside of, and perhaps impelled by, the necessities of anthropology and other human sciences).

Numerous theoretical models help us understand how copying and imitation in curricular practice, and mimesis in theories, may have supported or been supported by colonial projects. Enlightening are the models previously suggested by Homi K. Bhabha in his assessment that "mimicry emerges as one of the most elusive and effective strategies of colonial power and knowledge" or of Timothy Mitchell's examination of Cairo Schools replication of an English "original" model, as means of disciplinary colonial power.25 However, critiques of certain earlier colonial models have argued the colonial relations were neither enacted upon a passive colonized people, nor between a homogenized colonizer or colonized. Indeed, Rafael Cardoso's assessment of Brazil's academy as something of a "middle ground between colonizer and colonized" is helpful in this regard.26

#### Conclusion

Copying, therefore, whether in terms of statutes creating like academies, or through drawing based on an earlier model, never produces a replica but changes, subtracts, and adds to the extant model. Derrida, in his analyses of Rousseau, takes engraving as a metaphor for, or as a copy of, the model of art. He argues that whatever is added to any history of an origin "is nothing but the story of the separation." Mimesis, in Derrida's estimation of Rousseau, is but a supplement that "adds *nothing*". He asks, therefore, if a copy [as a supplement; O.V.] adds nothing then "is it not useless?"27 We have arrived at the contradiction with which I began this chapter; namely, and again borrowing from Derrida, the academy is a "machine" or engine of repetition. It is a mechanistic repetition of events signaled as an organic and creative, that is the creation


**Fig.3** Felicien Myrbach-Rheinfeldt, *Candidates for Admission to the Paris Salon*, late nineteenth/early twenteenth century, pen, brush, ink and graphite, 28 x 45.6 cm, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

of an original, unique work of art.28 And while all academies may not have suffered the consequential inundation of artistic productions issued by such an efficient machine (as in, for example, the French academies and their salons – *» Fig. 3*), they nonetheless bore the weight of this pedagogical system.

Academies were not homogeneous institutions. Rather, they were individually adapted to the different political and social demands of colonial and national powers. As we have seen, this was the case for Latin America's academies; copied directly from singular European models by royal decree – as in the case of Mexico – or on other ultra-imperial models as in the case of Brazil. If, as one recent philosopher stated, "pedagogy cannot help but encounter the problem of imitation"29 then extrapolating from that dictum, we should state here that the inverse is also probable: that imitation must ultimately encounter and deal with problems of pedagogy.

<sup>28</sup> There "is no thinking of the event, it seems, without some sensitivity, without an *aesthetic* affect and some presumption of living organicity. The machine, on the contrary, is destined to repetition. It is destined, that is, to reproduce impassively, imperceptibly, without organ or organicity, received commands." Derrida 2002, p. 72.

<sup>29</sup> Derrida 1997, p. 204.

### Bibliography

Akagi, Rikako and Yamaguchi, Kenji: *Drawing Education in the Late 19th Century: The Case of Japan*, in: Heilmann/Nanobashvili/ Pfisterer/Teutenberg 2015, pp. 151–167.

Angulo Iñiguez, Diego: *La Academia de Bellas Artes de Méjico y Sus Pinturas Españolas*, Sevilla 1935.

Báez Macías, Eduardo: *Historia de la Escuela Nacional de Bellas Artes: Antigua Academia de San Carlos, 1781–1910*, México D.F. 2009.

Báez Macías, Eduardo: *Jerónimo Antonio Gil y su traducción de Gérard Audran*, México D.F. 2001.

Báez Macías, Eduardo: *La enseñanza del arte en la Academia de San Carlos, Siglos XVIII y XIX*, Mexico D.F. 2005.

Barthes, Roland: *The Plates of the 'Encyclopedia',* in: Sontag, Susan (ed.): *A Barthes Reader*, New York 1980, pp. 218–223.

Bédat, Claude: *L'Académie des Beaux-Arts de Madrid, 1744–1808*, Toulouse 1973.

Bhabha, Homi K.: *Of Mimicry and Man: The Ambivalence of Colonial Discourse*, in: October 28 (Spring 1984), pp. 125–133.

Boime, Albert: *The Academy and French Painting in the Nineteenth Century*, New York 1971.

Boime, Albert: *The Cultural Politics of the Art Academy*, in: The Eighteenth Century, 35.3 (Autumn 1994), pp. 203–222.

Cardoso Denis, Rafael: *Academicism, Imperialism and National Identity: The Case of Brazil's Academia Imperial de Belas Artes*, in: Cardoso Denis, Rafael and Colin Trodd (eds.): *Art and the Academy in the Nineteenth Century,* New Brunswick 2000, pp. 53–67.

Charlot, Jean: *Mexican Art and the Academy of San Carlos 1785–1915,* Austin 1963.

Da Rocha Leite, Reginaldo: *A Contribuição das Escolas Artísticas Européias no Ensino das*  *Artes no Brasil Oitocentista*, in: *19 & 20 – A revista eletrônica de DezenoveVinte,* 4.1 (January 2009): http://www.dezenovevinte. net/ensino\_artistico/escolas\_reginaldo.htm [23.11.2018].

Dahn Battista, Stephanie: *O Corpo Falante: As inscrições discursivas do corpo na pintura acadêmica brasileira do século XIX*, Pd.D diss., Universidade Federal do Paraná 2011.

Deans-Smith, Susan: *'A Natural and Voluntary Dependence': The Royal Academy of San Carlos and the Cultural Politics of Art Education in Mexico City, 1786–1797*, in: Bulletin of Latin American Research, 29.3 (2010), pp. 278–295.

Derrida, Jacques: *Of Grammatology*, trans. by Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, 2nd corrected ed., Baltimore 1997.

Derrida, Jacques: *Typewriter Ribbon: Limited Ink (2)*, in: Kamuf, Peggy (ed., trans.): *Without Alibi*, Stanford 2002, pp. 71–160.

Dias, Elaine: *La Academia de Bellas Artes brasileña en la primera mitad del siglo XIX: rivalidades artísticas e institucionales entre franceses, portugueses y brasileños*, in: Guzmán Schiappacasse, Fernando, Gloria Cortés Aliaga and Juan Manuel Martínez Silva (eds.): *Arte y crisis en Iberoamérica. Segundas Jornadas de Historia del Arte*, Santiago 2004, pp. 95–102.

Dias, Elaine: *Um breve percurso pela história do Modelo Vivo no Século XIX – Princípios do método, a importância de Viollet Le Duc e o uso da fotografia*, in: *19 & 20 – A revista eletrônica de DezenoveVinte,* 2.4. http:// www.dezenovevinte.net/ensino\_artistico/ ed\_mv.htm [1.2.2009].

Donahue-Wallace, Kelly: *Jerónimo Antonio Gil and the Idea of the Spanish Enlightenment*, Albuquerque 2017.

*Estatutos de la Real Academia de San Carlos de Nueva España,* Mexico 1785.


# Drawing Education in Canadian Schools Late Nineteenth to Mid-Twentieth Century as Seen Through Drawing Textbooks

Harold Pearse

Although Canada is presently known for its multicultural mix, in 1867 at confederation, its inhabitants were largely of indigenous, French and British (with a minority of other European) origins with the indigenous population being virtually ignored. Traditional indigenous or aboriginal cultures were oral and visual. Drawing, be it as petroglyphs carved on rocks or painting on animal hides used as shelter and clothing, was a way to mark historical events or visionary experiences. "Drawing education" was based on an observational and modeling approach and immersion in the cultures' stories, mythologies and symbols.1

In the context of formal drawing education in nineteenth century schools, drawing was based on European models with the British influence being the greatest.2 Canada, the amalgamation of the British colonies of Canada East (Quebec), Canada West (Ontario), New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, officially became an independent country in 1867 with Prince Edward Island joining later (1873). The western provinces and territories had joined by 1906 and Newfoundland in 1949. In many respects, particularly cultural and educational, Canada still functioned as a colony in the late nineteenth to mid twentieth centuries, with models and influences coming from Britain, France (in Quebec) and increasingly from the United States. A major vehicle for drawing education

1 This paper is adapted from the "Introduction" and Chapter 5, "The Dawn of the Twentieth Century: Art Education in Nova Scotia, Ontario and British Columbia" written by this author in *From Drawing to Visual Culture: A History of Art Education in Canada* (2006). The textbooks referenced and illustrated are from the Donald Soucy Early Art Education Collection of the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design University, Halifax NS, the H.T. Coutts Education Library, The University of Alberta, Edmonton AB and the author's personal collection.

<sup>2</sup> Chalmers 1998.

was the illustrated instructional book which originated in Britain, Europe or the US, often crossing the Atlantic Ocean in the form of re-prints or later, in partnership with local publishers in Canadian cities.3 The colonized tended to colonize themselves by adopting (and adapting) the products and practices of the colonizer.

Education in Canada has been a paradox within paradoxes. Education is a provincial, rather than a federal jurisdiction, a concession of confederation, so there is no national education system – each province and territory has its own. While there have been and continue to be both formal and informal attempts at consultation, coordination and association on a national level, if there is a Canadian art or drawing education, it is the sum (or maybe more) of all these parts. A survey of provincial curriculum guides and department of education annual reports and authorized textbooks will show a continuous presence of art (originally in the form of drawing) in Canadian schools, and official endorsement of the currently accepted philosophy and pedagogy. However, the extent to which these guidelines were applied was varied and sporadic. Throughout the history of public education in Canada, advocates for art (or drawing) promised much in their spoken and written pronouncements and curriculum documents, yet what was delivered often fell short of those expectations or never reached the intended audience.4

#### Drawing before the mid-nineteenth century

During the colonial period in what is now Ontario, Quebec and the Maritimes (Nova Scotia, New Brunswick and Prince Edward Island), the apprenticeship system in which a master artist or craftsman would train or mentor a young student in exchange for labor could be seen as a kind of art education. In fields such as church decoration, wood carving, cabinet making, silver and tin smithing, and decorative iron work, the apprenticeship system served to preserve traditions and styles imported from Europe while establishing local conventions and practices. In Nova Scotia for example, in the early eighteenth century, informal and private instruction in drawing, usually to young ladies as "a polite accomplishment," was offered for a fee by local or itinerant artists5 or in convent schools.6 Drawing would be landscape or botanical drawing and painting would be watercolors, offered as "disciplines of cultural refinement."7 Such pursuits were seen as suitable for middle and upper class ladies. From its beginnings in Canada, art education has gender and cultural associations. In both Upper (Ontario) and Lower (Quebec) Canada, practical and linear drawing was the domain of young males, and


this mix of moral and skill education was the approach to drawing advocated in the mid-nineteenth century by the Mechanics' Institutes. Like those in Britain after which they were modeled, Mechanics' Institutes were devoted to adult education in the natural sciences whose aim was to provide a practical and morally upright education for working class men through, among other things, courses in mechanical drawing and industrial art. Among the typical reference books might be William B. Fowle's *An Introduction to Linear Drawing* (1825) "Translated from the French of M. Francoeur and Adapted to the use of Public Schools in the United States" and Rembrandt Peal's Graphics (1835) "A Manual of Drawing and Writing for the use of Schools and Families"8 or the work of Bartholomew (1874) who had been producing drawing books and cards since the 1850s. Mechanics' Institutes and other nineteenth-century benevolent and self-improvement movements in Canada can be regarded as a kind of self-colonialism and social control.9 Drawing manuals with a fine arts approach for "amateurs," implicitly young "ladies," included the popular Chapman's *American Drawing Book* (1847). It is subtitled "A Manual for the Amateur, and Basis of Study for the Professional Artist: Especially Adapted to the Use of Public and Private Schools, as well as Home Instruction" with the inspirational quote on the title page, "anyone who can learn to write can learn to draw." Indeed, drawing was seen as a universal language through which one could perceive meaning in great art and beauty in nature. Indeed, between 1820 and 1860, it is estimated that approximately 145 drawing books were published in the United States.10 Developments in printing technology and the growth of publishing companies made reproductions and drawing books available to a middle class audience.

#### Drawing at mid-nineteenth century

In Nova Scotia for example, art in public education pre-dates the Free School Act of 1864 that ensured free schooling to all children through a system of compulsory taxation.11 In his 1850 Report, Nova Scotia's Superintendent of Education, J. W. Dawson notes that drawing and music are taught in the common schools of Nova Scotia, however not as thoroughly as in the grammar schools of Boston which he had observed first hand on a recent tour of schools in New England. The close economic, trade and cultural ties between Eastern Canada, especially Nova Scotia and New England and what were known as "the Boston States," cannot be over-emphasized. So at confederation in Nova Scotia, drawing could be found in a few common schools and most private academies. Drawing was "closely connected with writing" yet Dawson concedes that "most of our


<sup>8</sup> Wygant 1983.

teachers know nothing of drawing and hence, cannot use the blackboard very efficiently, nor can they employ drawing as an introduction to writing."12 Dawson attempted to rectify the situation by prescribing drawing in the school curriculum and making reprints of drawing books available through the local book seller and publisher A. and W. MacKinley in Halifax.

Linear drawing, rigid and semi-geometric, had been prescribed in Ontario schools since Egerton Ryerson introduced the subject in 1865 after his return from a survey of schools in Europe. Ryerson is credited for introducing linear drawing into the schools of Ontario, then Upper Canada, in the mid-1850s and with forming an "Education Museum for Upper Canada in 1856."13 The inspiration was the South Kensington School in Britain, the center of that nation's system of art and design schools that aimed to develop the skills of artisans, to train drawing teachers and to educate the taste of consumers in the interest of British industry and trade, which was considered to be inferior, particularly to that of France with its centralized and bureaucratic approach. Like the British institution, Ryerson's museum came to house a full collection of plaster casts. Connected with the Department of Education, its purpose was the promotion of the arts, sciences, literature and school architecture.14

The South Kensington system, as it became known, gained a solid foothold in North America with the appointment in 1871 of one of its alumni, Walter Smith, as Supervisor of Drawing for Boston Public Schools, and Massachusetts State Agent for Drawing. Although Smith spent a little more than ten years in North America, he was a tireless crusader for industrial drawing as an essential component of public education. Education in drawing, meaning industrial drawing, was advocated and promoted by Smith and others as a panacea for the ills of society and the salvation of youth with much the same fervor and enthusiasm as was claimed for the value and role of computers in education in the late twentieth century. As described by Stankiewicz,

He (Smith) organized exhibitions of student drawings in Boston, inviting schools throughout the state to submit work for judging and awards. He established the Massachusetts Normal Art School, now Massachusetts College of Art, to train art specialists who could teach drawing at all levels and supervise the subject in schools. He submitted work from the state schools to the international exhibition held in Philadelphia to celebrate the nation's centennial. He lectured throughout the North Eastern States and Canada, describing his system and explaining how to implement industrial drawing classes in schools.15


<sup>12</sup> Dawson 1850.

At the 1876 Philadelphia Centennial Exhibition, a delegation of politicians, artists and manufacturers from Quebec met Smith and were impressed by him and his students' work and subsequently "recommended that the Smith system be adopted in the Quebec provincial post-secondary industrial art schools."16 By the early 1880s, the Walter Smith system in the South Kensington style constituted the curriculum of Quebec's fifteen industrial art schools and was being adapted for art instruction at the elementary and secondary levels. In the spring of 1882 Smith gave a series of well received lectures in Montreal and Quebec City.17 That summer he appeared in Nova Scotia, lecturing to teachers in Halifax and the Provincial Normal School in Truro, where one of his former students, Ottie Smith (no relation), was the drawing instructor.18 These talks not only served to spread his ideas but also to promote and market his series of text books and teachers' guides.19 By 1884 Walter Smith's books were being used in all grade levels in Nova Scotian schools. Stirling summarizes the Smith System (*»Fig. 1*): Students in the junior classes drew from "card copies of straight lines in the form of squares, crosses, etc., curved lines and circles and combinations of curved and straight lines, geometric forms of simple objects, such as vases, spirals, etc., forms of simple conventional leaves, flowers, etc." The senior classes, building on the exercise of drawing simple objects in outline in combinations of straight and curved lines, progressed to more complicated configurations such as "elementary examples of ancient styles of ornament, including the acanthus leaf, wave-scroll, anthenium, lotus flower, borders etc. […] simple outline drawings from the cast, and from objects such as, cubes, cones, cylinders, prisms and outline various parts of the human figure."20

Stankiewicz notes that although Smith's methods were similar to those found in American instruction manuals (such as Bartholomew's) featuring lines, geometric shapes and line drawings of objects, he "placed a greater emphasis on vocabulary and definitions and on accurate verbal description of the drawings. Students were expected to learn the rules and scientific principles of drawing and not simply to copy images."21 Of course in many cases, they just copied images – from the books and also the blackboards which teachers were encouraged to use for demonstrations along with oral instructions. Sometimes students would use the blank pages and margins for their own imaginative drawings or doodles (*»Fig. 2*). Some images in the *Teachers' Manual* were presented as white on black to replicate a blackboard drawing (*»Fig. 3*).

Smith's books were profitable commodities not only for himself but for publishers. Smith's original Boston publisher was J.R. Osgood & Company and his editor there was John S. Clark. When Clark left the company in 1874 to join the publishing firm


<sup>16</sup> Stirling 1997, p. 358.

**Fig. 1** Cover of Walter Smith's 1879 *American Text Books of Art Education* No. 12 (revised edition). Published by the Boston based L. Prang & Company.

**Fig.2** A page from Walter Smith's 1879 *American Text Books of Art Education* No. 12 (revised edition) with student marginalia.

**2**

**1**

**Fig.3** A page from Walter Smith's *Teacher's Manual* (1887).

of L. Prang and Company, Prang22 purchased publishing rights to Smith's popular *Textbooks for Art Education* that were published in a variety of formats beginning in 1875.23 The Smith-Prang partnership prospered, cornering the very profitable drawing education market. However, their relationship was a tense one, undercut by growing financial and ideological differences, often aired in public. Smith's eventual alienation from school board members and dismissal from his position as Director of Drawing for the Public Schools of Boston in 1881 and a year later from his duties as State Director of Art Education and Principal of the Massachusetts Normal School was likely due, in part, to his confrontations with Prang.24

Although the assumption that drawing was a useful industrial skill justified its inclusion as a school subject, there was also a prevalent Victorian belief, which Smith supported, that drawing in its academic form and the study of art (preferably classical

22 Louis Prang, born in Prussia in 1824, immigrated to the US in 1850, gaining experience working in printing establishments in New York. Settling in Boston, he formed a partnership in 1856, Prang & Mayer, with Julius Mayer, learning the art of lithography. He bought out his partner in 1860, forming L. Prang & Company, which became known for its maps, colored lithographs and the first American Christmas cards (1874). Prang's interest in art and printing methods led him to become an advocate of public school art education. Prang was influential in the hiring of Walter Smith as Director of Art Education for Boston Schools and the State of Massachusetts.

<sup>23</sup> Stankiewicz/Amburgy/Bolin 2004; Smith 1879.

<sup>24</sup> Stankiewicz/Amburgy/Bolin 2004.

and renaissance art) would lead to "cultural refinement" and "moral elevation." There was also the assumption, sometimes implicit, sometimes explicit, that industrial drawing was the domain of males, and "fine art" drawing that of females, with the possible exception of the rare male with the inclination to become a professional artist.

Chalmers notes that "where 'beauty' and 'grace' were included in drawing curricula, these concepts followed learning to draw straight lines, curved lines and vases with 'subtlety of proportion'."25 Indeed, the first lesson was usually to draw and then dissect a series of straight lines, probably the source of the still heard clichéd excuse for lack of ability or interest in art: "I can't draw a straight line!" Drawing instruction was rulebound, governed by the approved drawing manual and over-seen by drawing masters, preferably with credentials from the British South Kensington art and design school system. Conformity was valued over individuality.

#### Made in Canada drawing books

In the 1880s, instruction manuals written and marketed by the ubiquitous Walter Smith and re-printed in Canadian cities were adopted for school use by provincial governments in Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, Quebec, Ontario and British Columbia. For example, Smith's 1887 *Teacher's Manual for Freehand Drawing* was printed in St John New Brunswick by the MacMillan Company. For the Quebec market the Smith texts were translated into French by Oscar Dunn.26 They were superseded in 1891 by a similar system and set of drawing manuals designed by homegrown educator Edmond M. Templé. An early "made in Canada" text was developed by Arthur Reading, employed by the Toronto School Board as Superintendent of Drawing since 1880. Reading's role was to oversee the introduction of a series of drawing books in the city of Toronto which the Province's Department of Education hoped would improve and standardize instruction. Not coincidentally, Arthur J. Reading is credited as the author of the series called *The High School Drawing Course*. Reading's series of five books, in general use in Toronto schools by 1887, contained exercises in mechanical drawing and freehand copying, and were planned to develop draftsmanship in grade school students and were designed to be taught by regular classroom teachers and above all, to be practical. In the ten-year period that followed, the books, with blank pages and exercises and pictures to be copied, were introduced to the lower grades including Grade One and Kindergarten, completing a series that spanned all grade levels. The courses of study were unified and standardized and consisted of five books, from Junior and Senior First to Junior and Senior Fifth, inclusive. The education of the average child terminated with Book Five.

25 Chalmers 1998, p. 50.

26 Stirling 2006; Smith 1877.

Drawing instruction in Toronto met the approval of the likes of Lucius O'Brien of the Ontario School of Art and President of the Royal Canadian Academy. O'Brien "expressed astonishment and pleasure at the ingenuity and taste displayed by the students, and in usefulness he placed the course next to the three Rs".27 Known as a painter as well as an educator, O'Brien authored his own text, the *Canadian Drawing Course* (1885), covering elementary freehand, object, constructive and perspective drawing and aiming at a national audience. A co-author of the series was J.H. McFaul, Teacher of Drawing at the Toronto Normal School. In 1892 the Minister of Education authorized a sequel, called the *Public School Drawing* course, of which McFaul is the sole author. A companion series, The *High School Drawing* course by A.C. Casselman who succeeded McFaul as Drawing Master at the Toronto Normal School was published in 1894. These texts replaced Walter Smith's books "as the prescribed text in many provinces, including Nova Scotia"28 and are probably the "copy books" referred to in the Nova Scotia Annual Reports in the early 1900s.29 Indeed, the McFaul and Casselman series stayed on the provinces prescribed text book list from 1895 until 1920. There is a gentle irony in the observation that practical and activity-based education was disseminated through books. By the turn of the century, drawing books had found their way into most elementary school classrooms. Canadian book publishers whose main source of profit had been their wholesale distribution of foreign books, re-prints, periodicals, pamphlets and religious tracts discovered that school text publishing was quite lucrative.

#### Early twentieth century

At the turn of the century, "drawing" in schools became "art" and professional artists were looked to for leadership in art education. In 1904 in the official program of studies for public and separate schools, the Ontario Department formally replaced "drawing" with "art" to make the course of study "both more aesthetically oriented and more suitable for modern industrial society".30 The task of the student was to emulate the skills of an adult artist. The embodiment of official art education in this period is the Ontario Teachers' Manual, Art (1916), a volume of 335 pages, a few in color. Published and distributed throughout Canada by the T. Eaton company, best known as a national department store chain and for its profusely illustrated catalogs, it epitomized the technical and adult approach to art education, reflecting the thought and practice of the professional artist. It nurtured the stereotype of art as a series of isolated skills and presented the task


<sup>27</sup> Cochrane 1950, p. 214.

of the student as an emulator of the accomplished adult artist. The goals enshrined in the Ontario manual and provincial curriculum material were seldom (if ever) achieved.

The practice continued of provinces prescribing American originated texts published in Canadian cities whereby Canadian publishers formed partnerships with American companies or produced Canadian editions of British authors.31 Various configurations of *The Prang Drawing Books* (1901, 1912, 1914) produced by the Boston based company were printed in Winnipeg, Toronto, Montreal and Halifax and were approved texts in all Canadian provinces, even Alberta, newly formed from the Northwest Territories in 1905.

The American D. R. Augsburg, whose books originated from the Boston Educational company (1901) produced a Halifax NS printed "Canadian Series" of "graded practice books" (copyright 1903) along with teachers' manuals that the Nova Scotia Department of Education authorized for use as text books in the province's schools in 1906. Versions continued to appear on the province's text book list well into the 1930s.32 Although the format is drawn illustrations with facing blank pages, Augsburg stresses that "these books are not copy books" (second page of cover) and the illustrations "are presented to show how similar objects may be drawn" (*»Fig. 4*).

Drawing books for schools were published in other provinces, authored by a local art educator associated with a provincial normal school or art school and usually from Britain and trained in the South Kensington tradition. In New Brunswick the texts, called the New Brunswick Drawing Course, were a series of "graded practice books" by H.H. Hagerman of the Provincial Normal School in Fredericton, distributed and "prescribed by the Educational Department of New Brunswick." In Alberta, the Prang and Augsburg books continued to be used but by the mid-1920s were supplemented by local publications produced by the Institute for Applied Art, an educational publisher in Edmonton. *Public School Art* by J. Gordon Sinclair, Instructor in Freehand Drawing at the Technical School in Edmonton appeared in 1925. In 1934, they also produced *Art for High Schools* by R.W. Hedley of the Provincial Normal School. The lessons and illustrations were borrowed from other publications, for example the cat drawings taken from the *Prang Graphic Drawing* series, but there also is an attempt to include local content such as the Alberta tourism themed posters (*»Fig. 7 and 8*).

The first locally produced drawing texts in British Columbia, appearing in 1902, were the *Canadian Drawing Series*, by David Blair, Art Master and Instructor of Drawing at the province's Normal School in Vancouver. Prior to coming to Canada, the South Kensington graduate spent seventeen years in New Zealand, spreading the doctrine in that other far away colony.33 True to his training, the books included only geometrical and freehand (industrial) drawing. Blair's successor at the Normal School, John Kyle, co-authored the 1907 edition of the *Canadian Drawing Series* that included color and


**6**

**Fig.4** Pages from Augsburg's *Drawing Canadian Series* Graded Practice books Year 6 (1906).

**Fig.5** Cover of *Blair's Canadian Drawing Series* (1902).

**Fig.6** Page from *Blair's Canadian Drawing Series*  (1902).

**4**

design. Kyle was in turn succeeded by William Weston as Normal School Art Master. Weston produced the widely used *Teachers' Manual of Drawing for Elementary and High Schools* (1933)*.* Blair, Kyle and Weston were all trained in Britain which insured that art education in British Columbia in the first quarter of the twentieth century was indeed British (*»Fig. 5 and 6*).

In Nova Scotia, it was the Sheffield England trained Elizabeth S. Nutt who slowly helped to change the practice of drawing and art education. A painter in the English romantic landscape tradition, in her books she advocated the arts and crafts movement's ideas on design and composition popularized by Walter Crane in England and Arthur Wesley Dow in the United States and promoted in *School Arts Magazine*. Arthur Wesley Dow's teaching and writing, in particular his book *Composition* (1913), revolutionized art and drawing education by presenting art in terms of structure and design, as opposed to copying and representation. He introduced the concept of *Notan*, borrowed from Japanese design, involving the interplay of dark and light elements. Throughout the 1920s and 30s Elizabeth Nutt reissued her books, *The World of Appearances Part II* and *Significance,* portions of which originally appeared in Britain as *Flower Drawing with the Children* in 1916 before her arrival to teach at the art school in Halifax in 1920 (*» Fig. 9*).

In the late 1800s and early 1900s, the practical and manipulative arts and active learning for children and youth were receiving attention from North American art educators. The idea that it was "not natural for a child to learn only from books" and that valuable learning occurred through the senses and physical activity was inherent in the educational philosophies of Rousseau, Pestalozzi and Froebel and was in turn adopted by the Child Study Movement.34 These influences can be seen in Mary Dana Hicks' text book, *Prang Elementary Course* 1897 where she discusses how children's drawings look without instruction.35 Manual training was advocated as a necessary element in the curriculum. The surge of interest in manual training courses and schools (which included crafts such as wood working, pottery, textile work) served to confuse the role of drawing and art in schools, which shared common roots and justifications, in particular those of the British Arts and Craft movement and William Morris and John Ruskin's esthetic and social philosophies. These ideas and influences, heralded as the "New Education", inspired Jesse Semple, Director of Drawing (later Supervisor of Art) for the Toronto Public Schools from 1900 to 1925. In 1904 the board of education

35 Mary Dana Hicks, widowed in 1858, began her career as an art teacher at the high school in Syracuse, New York in the 1860s, becoming the city's supervisor of art education and a tireless promoter of art education, public exhibitions and museums. In 1878 she moved to Boston on the invitation of Louis Prang to work for the Prang Educational Company, editing, co-editing (Clark, Hicks & Perry 1890) and authoring Prang's art texts, training teachers and assisting in his efforts to establish art education in public schools. She married Louis Prang in 1900, one year after the death of his first wife. They travelled extensively promoting Prang texts and art supplies until his death in 1909.

<sup>34</sup> Johnson 1968, p. 86.

**9**

**Fig.7** Cover of *Prang Graphic Drawing Books: Book 1* (1914) published in Canada.

**Fig.8** A page from P*rang Graphic Drawing Books: Book 1* (1914) published in Canada.

**Fig.9** A page from *Elizabeth S. Nutt's Appearances* (1935).

allowed her time to visit the International Exposition in St. Louis Missouri, after which she introduced Prang texts as reference books for teachers.36 In addition, she would have been aware of the *School Arts Book*,37 an influential American periodical published by Henry Turner Bailey that emphasized "drawing from nature, lettering and the design of craft objects in metal, revealing a moderate influence of Morris" and the look of art nouveau.38

#### Approaching the mid-twentieth century

By the late 1920s and into the 30s and 40s, the child-centered doctrines and progressive education influences of the American child study movement, John Dewey (1934) and the Austrian Franz Cizek, were being reflected in Canadian school art curricula. It was claimed that artwork of children had its own character and integrity and teaching should be developmentally appropriate. The major Canadian child art advocate was Sheffield England trained Arthur Lismer, a charismatic teacher best known as a member of the Group of Seven landscape painters, who introduced the work of Franz Cizek's child artists to audiences in Toronto in 1926 and pioneered a child centered approach through Saturday museum and Art gallery children's classes in Toronto and Montreal from the mid-1920s to the mid-1960s.39 Children were encouraged to draw and paint on large sheets of paper with big brushes! While this influence slowly filtered into the classroom, step by step instruction derived from residual "how to" drawing books persisted, albeit in a minor, supporting role. Drawing was listed as one of several art-making processes and a "tool" for thematic or personal creative image making and though perhaps listed in an appendix, specific textbooks for drawing were rarely prescribed. The momentum for regarding art, and in turn drawing, as a mode for "free expression" increased after the Second World War, aided partly by "foreign" writers like the Englishman Herbert Read and his influential book *Education through Art* (1943) and the Austrian-American Viktor Lowenfeld, author of *Creative and Mental Growth* (1947) that promoted a non-interventionist view of child art. A "made in Canada," or more specifically Ontario based approach is embodied in the work and writing of Charles Dudley Gaitskell (born in the UK but raised and educated in Canada) who as Director of Art for the Ontario Ministry of Education and author of *Children and their Art* (1958) adapted these ideas to the public school system. These ideas and influences co-existed with a curriculum and practice that valued Bauhaus

39 Pearse 1992.

<sup>36</sup> Pearse 2006 (The dawn).

<sup>37</sup> Established as *The Applied Arts Book* in 1901 and re-titled *The School Arts Book* in 1903, the periodical became *School Arts Magazine* in 1913. It is still publishing today.

<sup>38</sup> Wood 1986, p. 152.

theories of art and design that regarded art as a relationship with materials and their properties and design as a set of interconnected elements and principles.

#### Mid-twentieth century and beyond

From the mid to late twentieth century, drawing continued to play a role (sometimes central, mostly peripheral) in Canadian school art programs. Art teachers who had been taught drawing in university or art school brought to their public school art classes Kimon Nicoladies' techniques of gesture and contour drawing described in the programmatic *The Natural Way to Draw* (1941)*.* In the 1980s Betty Edward's *Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain* (1979) introduced a new generation of art teachers to some time-tested drawing techniques (i.e. blind contour, up-side down drawing, positive-negative space, etc.) in the cloak of bicameral brain theory. Again the pattern is repeated of transposing pedagogy for adult artists to the teaching of children and youth in public schools. Approaches of the accomplished adult artist are still the point of reference, but adapted to the students' developmental stages. Drawing is considered one technique or process from a list that includes painting, printmaking, photography, ceramics, textiles, digital media etc. – both a "tool" and an art form in itself. Gender roles and social class distinctions are blurred. Influences are multicultural and global and the venerable textbook has been replaced by the internet.

An inspiring approach for teachers is promoted by *The Drawing Network*, an informal organization founded by Bob Steele, artist and Professor Emeritus of the University of British Columbia that promotes drawing, especially line drawing, through books, newsletters and a web site.40 The participants and the audience are teachers (art and language arts) and parents. Drawing is seen as a primal visual language that develops in tandem with and enriches verbal language. The key is that the stories and images derive from the student's authentic experiences and the relationship is an empathetic one. Whatever the orientation or motivation, most Canadian art educators regard drawing as a means of visual thinking, visual representation and creative expression that requires some technical knowledge and instruction and a great deal of practice.

#### Bibliography


*Education for the Province of Nova Scotia*, Halifax 1901–02, 1904–06.


# The Evolution of Drawing Education in Modern Japan The Impact of Traditional and Introduced Methods on the Artworks of Elementary Students in the Meiji Era

Akagi Rikako and Yamaguchi Kenji

#### The Meiji era: days of westernization

Contemporary Japan is said to have started in 1868 when Meiji Emperor declared the founding of a new government following the termination of Tokugawa *Shoguns*' sovereignty since the beginning of the seventeenth century. Subsequently, extensive policies in order to replace social organizations of the 'ancien regime' with those in the Western style were announced and carried out in very rapid succession. Academic researchers review the series of historic events around this change under the title of the Meiji, or Imperial, Restoration, though people of those days just simply called it *go-isshin*, or renewals.

While, in our previous paper, *Drawing Education in the late 19th Century: The Case of Japan*,1 discussions were centered on the introduction of such renewals to the art world by giving prominence to leading art educators or teaching-system organizers, the primary focus of this article is set in the opposite orientation: the ways and reasons they were accepted by the population, with particular attention being given to artworks of ordinary elementary students.

Before starting further discussion, brief and general explanations should be given about the Meiji era, around which our historical examinations are to be made. The

1 Akagi/Yamaguchi 2015.

era initiated on October 23, 1868 when the newly enthroned Emperor proclaimed its beginning, and lasted until July 30, 1912, or the day of his death. Along the Imperial Court's expectations toward a new age, the era name, written in Japanese as 明 (*mei*) and 治 (*ji*), was carefully chosen, with specific meanings original to each of the Chinese characters being considered, as the former (明) implies brightness or enlightenment while the latter (治) is used to describe governance or well-orderedness. In effect, the era was to witness the most massive and fundamental changes in Japan's history of social administration. In the beginning, modern systems of the then Great Powers were quickly imported to more critical fields, such as law, medicine, and engineering as well as education, and finally the scope of the renewals was expanded so far as to cover almost entire domains of social life. It would show how successfully the government ran through the initial phase for catching up with the West, however, as told in historical records of other developing countries, a more difficult phase was always imminent after new institutions were launched, that is, the phase of running them properly.

The Meiji government, proficient in seeing the future, had been well aware that the smooth passing of the subsequent phase should depend on the realization of a properly trained workforce available in modern organizations to be newly built. Thus as early as at its starting point, an unconventional principle in assigning professional functions had been announced. The principle, seen by the government as favorable in the new phase, is described as "meritocracy" by sociologists today.2 In the period preceding the Meiji era, named historically as Edo, the lifelong career of a person was largely determined by which family he had been born into, without sufficient attention to his ability or merit, in the same way as in the medieval period in Europe. This rule of occupational succession was strictest in the case of *samurai*, whose duty was inherited by generations, and the classification and rank of their assigned job was usually unchanged. The title of *samurai*, as well known even by foreign researchers, was traditionally given to military officers, but a more precise understanding of their functions is now necessary that they were also assigned tasks of peacetime administration, given primary importance in the seventeenth-nineteenth centuries when no large-scale battle occurred in Japan.

Using a sociological idea again, the government's new assignment principle is explained as an introduction of the "rule of achievement" in filling a post, which can be rephrased, from a viewpoint of applicants, that they could attain an upper rank of social position according to their skills worthy in the new age. And thereafter, Japanese people were heated up to acquire "modern" skills, and quickly opened schools of Western studies abounded with the aspired youth.

<sup>2</sup> The term *meritocracy* was coined by Young 1958. Although Young himself described the world of "meritocracy" with harmful implications, the word is today used as more neutral terminology, usually without negative nuances.

Focusing on art education, as early as in 1876 the government launched a professional art institute, named Kobu Bijutsu Gakko, as a branch of the National Ministry of Industry,3 with a painter and a sculptor being invited from Italy to instruct the authentic style of the European academy, besides private Western-art studios then appearing countrywide. Students of such new schools, many of whom were not born into artists' family, entertained a strong sense of mission to fulfill a role through art in the days of renewals, while, in the preceding Edo period, picture making was mostly regarded as mere accomplishments or hobbies in high society.

And in the arena of elementary education, the government announced a plan via the 1872's decree entitled 学制 (*Gakusei* or The Education System) to spread a two-stage system of schooling nationwide, with the lower, and obligatory, elementary schools being built for the 1st–4th graders and the upper ones for the 5th–8th graders. Referring to art education, the decree also provides that drawing instruction be mandatory in the upper schools, though optional in the lower ones. Nonetheless, whatever its stipulations might say magnificently, there still remained many difficulties toward their realization. Above all, some good fee was charged for elementary schooling because of the limited budget of the then local governments, and thus, even in the second decade of the Meiji era (1878–1887), its official enrollment rate was stagnating on the level of 40 to 50%, which suggests, as a matter of fact, that the real attenders' rate was much lower, reported around 30%. That is to say the obligatory schooling system was being gradually established through the end of the Meiji era (1912), when the enrollment rate finally reached nearly 100%.

In this paper, two sets of elementary-level artworks are introduced: those in the early Meiji era and those in its last stage, examined in chapters 2 and 3 respectively. A comparison of the two would be a meaningful illustration of the progress in art education of the era as the former consists of pictures made when elementary schooling was a privilege for a small number of children, in contrast to those within the latter, representing the realization of the 'universal' elementary education.

#### Aspirations of art learners in the Early Meiji era The over-expecting youth of early maturity in Eisai Shin-shi

A major focus of this chapter is set on 穎才新誌 (*Eisai Shin-shi* or New Journal for the Excellent), first published in 1877. It is a unique journal in that almost all the pages were devoted to print literal and visual works contributed by the underage, which were various enough to comprehend such essays from recommendations for urgent social

<sup>3</sup> The most elaborate article in English was made on the institute in Amagai 2003. Also, in Japanese: Kaneko 1997.

problems and down to reports of striking experiences in their school and family life, as well as creations in literature and art.4 Out of the twenty-four-year span of its publication, our attention is narrowed toward its earliest six years (1877–1882) as those years were a period when the first generation was enrolled in newly launched elementary schools of the Western style.

The journal's mission statement, printed in its first number, says as follows:

Recently, the progress of civilization is accelerated by an increasing number of schools, and much more diligent students everywhere in the country, both male and female, are being encouraged by decent teachers to make public their works, such as essays, opinions, poems, or the like, some of which catch discerning eyes of adults. Thus the journal shall take a mission in the nationwide discovery of those children with amazing excellence, thereby proving a far-reaching glorious influence of the Emperor's reign.5

A specific investigation into the journal should be started with a remark sent by a thirteen-year-old contributor named Okuda Kan'nosuke complaining that too much importance was given to visual works in the journal:

Writing predominates over making calligraphies and images… Pictures are nothing but copies of things… Thus, even if it is appreciated that the journal is pursuing various educational goals, what benefit should be found in calligraphies and pictures on the journal in order to promote the growth of the youth? Literal works are always useful in that they enlighten readers and help writers improve their skills of expression, but you could get nothing from its visual


contributions other than obscure impressions that it might be well made considering the age of the creator.6

Although this attack by Okuda against the significance of artworks by the amateur youth caused major refutations in the journal, investigated in the next section, our discussion should be continued on the journal itself.

A distinct feature is that its many young contributors' behavior, including that of Okuda, showed more maturity than is expected for their age.7 For example, if no information was given about the age of the writer of the text above, it would be easily misunderstood as having been written by an adult as it is a respectable manifestation of the writer's belief on fairly public affairs rather than a simple impression on daily commonplace events, as often found in essays assigned in elementary schools today. And that is also true in the images submitted to the journal, the creators of which were obviously rivaling with adults in showing their skills in pictures (see the images in the next section). In addition, considering the fact that certain school names are found more frequently in the profiles of its contributors, it is suggested that their early maturities were cherished consistently by ambitious school teachers and other adults, who might have been seeking chances to show their excellence to the public.

The uniqueness of the journal was so proudly recognized by the Meiji government that it was exhibited in 1878's World Exposition held in Paris, in order to demonstrate educational improvements in Japan.8 And even to this day, the journal attracts many researchers, most of whom study it in relation to a prevalent fashion of discourse in the early Meiji era.9 Further, the fact should be also emphasized that the government was then relatively tolerant in the freedom of speech, though watchful for excessive denials of its legitimacy. More precisely, the government is seen to have been determining its orientation with careful attention to those political opinions formed even in a private world. Accordingly, people of those days, both upper and lower, were enthusiastic in stating and exchanging their expectations toward the age of renewals, the bases of


#### 240 Akagi Rikako and Yamaguchi Kenji

which were usually drawn from spoken or written comments of forerunners, readily accessible in commoners' daily life. It is in such historical backgrounds that the journal was welcomed by many ambitious young readers, who were given the chance to appeal the potentials of their knowledge and skills. Generally speaking, in a society where various and sometimes contradicting alternatives are possible in its future, foreseeing visions must be more necessary for the youth as more uncertainty awaits them than adults. It is stated, thus, that readers of the journal were quite seriously arguing the desired futures in the age of renewals, just because they were young, rather than saying "although they were young."

#### Foreseen values in creating pictures

Now a specific inspection should be offered of the artworks in 頴才新誌 (*Eisai Shin-shi* or New Journal for the Excellent). The most frequently depicted objects are plants, among which the traditional "four nobles" (orchid, chrysanthemum, plum blossom, and bamboo) are especially favored, while other motifs are also found, such as human figures, landscapes, animals, or the like. In most of them, the styles and techniques taken over from the periods prior to the Westernization are emphasized, as 173 out of 191 images printed between 1877 and 1882 can be classified as traditional ink paintings or drawings, three examples of which are shown as *» Figures 1, 2 and 3*.

Their maturity is quite distinctive,10 which would be partly explained, here again, by the fact that a choice of attending elementary schools was allowed only for a selected class of children.

In Figure 1, a boy is depicted as he is about to draw something, perhaps a selfportrait of the creator. Furthermore, it is an example of a traditional combination-work of an image and a poem, both of which had been regarded to be equally indispensable for genuine *literati*.11 Then, a notable virtue of the journal should be mentioned that


**Fig. 1** Drawing Child, created by a 7-year-old resident of Hyogo Prefecture named Kuroda Risaburo, in: 頴才新誌 (*Eisai Shin-shi* or New Journal for the Excellent), 121 (June 28, 1879), p. 1.

**Fig.2** Bamboo, created by an 11-year-old named Fukuda (no information on the given name and residence), in: 頴才新誌 (*Eisai Shin-shi* or New Journal for the Excellent), 77 (August 24, 1878), p. 1.

**Fig.3** Landscape,created by an 11-year-old resident of Tokyo Prefecture named Yoshikawa, Takezo, in: 穎才新誌 (*Eisai Shin-shi* or New Journal for the Excellent), 225 (September 17, 1881), p. 1.

**3**

many artworks by girls were picked up, among which Figure 2 is a superior one (see note 10 again). And it is also noticeable proof showing the survival of a usual custom in old art studios where young disciples were assigned plants as the first training subjects, with the "four nobles" being listed top. Figure 3 reflects a familiar taste in traditional landscapes, whose style, called *Nan-ga*, was most favored in the previous Edo period, with a thrifty and quiet life of noblemen nested in the grandeur of nature being appre-

and well written words at a time. It would be difficult for Western people to understand how closely the skill in making pictures was intertwined with that of making poems and calligraphy in Japan's tradition of *ars*. Thus, the arguments on art in 穎才新誌 (*Eisai Shin-shi* or New Journal for the Excellent), investigated in chap. 2, should be read with the tradition in mind, in which pictures are often paralleled with writings.

**Fig.4** Still Life, created by a 14-year-old resident of Kagoshima Prefecture named Watabe, Masami, in: 穎才新誌 (*Eisai Shin-shi* or New Journal for the Excellent), 140 (November 8, 1879), p. 1.

ciated as a prime motif. Finally, a Western-style drawing should be also introduced as *» Figure 4*, however small the number of contributions may be in the journal.

Its skillfulness is by no means inferior to the three traditional works mentioned above as a variety of flowers and leaves in a stable composition is well depicted with some shading by hatched lines.

With these and other unmentioned well-made artworks in mind, a controversy among readers of the journal arose about the significance of young people's studies in art. It was triggered by the aforementioned attack by a reader named Okuda. Three counter remarks to him are quoted as representative:

The term of excellence generally refers to unrivaled skills or knowledge in whatever field they may be celebrated, […] and thus it is quite natural that calligraphies, pictures and essays on the consummate level be equally presented in 穎才新誌 [*Eisai Shin-shi* or New Journal for the Excellent].12

Calligraphy is traditionally listed in "the six arts" [the six types of skill required for the educated in the pan-Chinese tradition], and likewise drawing

<sup>12</sup> 穎才トハ何ヲカ云フ曰ク總テ事物ヲ能クシ才知衆人ニ勝レテ大ニ穎怜ヲ極ムルノ故ニ非ズヤ[...]而ラハ 穎才新誌ト云へハ書ニ因ラス画ニ依ラス文ニ依ラス總而事物ノ妙ヲ盡シタル者ヲ編成セシ新誌ヲ云フ ニ非ラズシテ何ゾヤ, Tatenaka 1878.

is a universally esteemed skill. Therefore I insist that neither be neglected as much usefulness is found in them.13

Nothing but pictures can allow correct imagination for unknown objects or visions. That is why images are printed in elementary textbooks […] in such subjects as literal practice, and further, reading, geography, and history. And that is also why drawing is taught in upper elementary schools.14

Two assumptions can be gained through examining these remarks. First the readers were probably arguing with recognition that a certain number of competent young art makers existed around them, whose talents are hardly believed to have been nurtured only through the then "modern" elementary-school curricula as the arrangements in teaching art were usually imperfect. It implies that the profuseness of the skilled youth is seen to have rather been owed to the legacy originating in the preceding Edo period, when private art instructors, either professional or amateur, had been so flourishing as to attract many underage art learners. Besides, the fact should be again emphasized that most of the journal's images are classified as traditional brush-and-ink works, in which many of young instructors trained in newly built Normal Schools might have seen a minor significance, compared to Western-style art making.

However, secondly, the reasons the readers mentioned in order to appeal the value in creating pictures are stated to have been absolutely novel, whose justifications often came down not only from the new government's statements on art instruction (see again the third remark above) but also from major art books published at the beginning of the Meiji era. As a historical truth, the youth of those days were eagerly exploring their potentials, as shown previously, and they were mature enough to approach those writings of brand-new opinion leaders, most of which were published toward adults. Another comment, showing the point well, is quoted:

Without pictures you could not be fully trained in such advanced skills as dissecting human bodies, taking a right geographical direction, or drawing copies of a machine. If you are not proficient in making pictures by your own hand, nothing could be worked under your command without depending on others' pictures, which would also irritate you enough.15

<sup>13</sup> 書ハ六藝ノ一ナリ画モ天下ノ一技ナリ何レモ捨ツ可カラス予ハ書画ヲ掲載スルハ大ニ益アリトス, Matsumoto 1878.

<sup>14</sup> 物体及景色ノ實物ニ就カスシテ之ヲ想像セシムルヲ得ル画ニ非ンハ能ハス是ヲ以テ小學ニ於テ[...]單 語連語ヨリ讀本地誌歴史皆圖画ヲ挿入ス且上等小學ニ画學アリ, Okada 1878.

<sup>15</sup> 夫レ人体ノ解剖地理ノ方位器械ノ形模皆圖画ニ因ラザレバ得テ知ルヿヲ得可カラザルナリ今若シ自ラ 圖画ヲ作ルヿヲ知ザレバ必ズ手ヲ他人ニ假ラザルヲ得ズ手ヲ他人ニ假ラバ己ガ意ノ如クナラザルノミ ナラズ其憂煩モ亦甚シ, Asahi 1878.

Obviously, most of the text is drawn directly from the introductory section of 図法階梯 (*Zu-hou Kaitei* or Steps in Drawing Method).16 An odd facet to be noted is that those words originally used in order to assert the prime significance of the Western-style art were re-interpreted so broadly as to justify even Eastern-style images in the journal.

Now, remembering our two assumptions at one time, it is concluded that young art learners were struggling to re-activate those drawing skills bequeathed from the ancien regime, as favorable weapons in a world of renewals. And thus the pictures in穎 才新誌 (*Eisai Shin-shi* or New Journal for the Excellent) are seen to be historical proof how stubbornly the then youth were swimming with the tide of a new age.

## An art world of the local youth in the last stage of Meiji: the case of Tojo Town

#### Elementary art education in Tojo Town

Akagi Rikako discovered a set of students' artworks of the Elementary School of Tojo, presumably made by its graduating 8th graders in 1912 (the final year of the Meiji era), and first introduced at a conference held in 2013.17 The pictures within it would vividly represent an art world of the youth in the last stage of the Meiji era. In the history of elementary education, the period around the time when the works were made can be seen highly critically, primarily because the span of mandatory schooling was officially extended from four to six years in 1907 in response to the rising enrollment rate of elementary schools, then reaching to nearly 100%. And still more important for us is that the subject of drawing was simultaneously stipulated as a mandatory subject for


all the elementary graders, which represents the decision of the government to universalize art instruction for all children. While specific investigations into the pictures are shown in the next section, more general explanations should be made on the historical conditions producing such artworks.

Tojo Town, reached by an approximately 100-kilometer-long railway trip from Okayama City, locates in a valley surrounded by mountains, close to the northeast edge of Hiroshima Prefecture. Today the town, with no large city nearby, is depopulating rapidly, however, a long history of its prosperities should not be forgotten as a commercial heartland of distributions of "modern" goods, among which cattle and cast-iron products were seen as illustrative of its Westernizing days.18 Historical records on the town say that, as soon as the Meiji government announced the first vision of elementary schooling via 1872's decree (see chap. 1), many organizations for training children appeared, most of which originated from private learning houses of the former period. Besides them, the Elementary School of Tojo was established in 1879 by unifying its two predecessors, namely Seishin-sha and Teisei-sha, which had been opened in 1874 for boys' education, and in 1875 for girls' respectively. The fact that an official elementary school was started at such an early time shows that the town's leading persons were endowed with a highly progressive spirit, as funds for running local schools were then mostly raised by private benefactors. Subsequently in 1886, nearly midway point of the Meiji era (1868–1912), the government declared a new set of realistic ordinances on the school system, abolishing the preceding orders, which opened an epoch in elementary instruction with a phase of establishment after that of trial and error. Owing to the accounts made in our previous paper on the general progress in art education around the time,19 further discussions can be allowed on daily drawing materials in that new phase.

In 1903 elementary students were obliged to use a common set of textbooks edited by the government itself, while prior to that, any books were given permission for use in classrooms as long as they were approved to conform to the official guidelines. Educational historians review it as the period of nationally edited textbooks, which lasted until 1949. As for drawing textbooks, the earliest editions were published by the Ministry of Education in 1904 under the titles of 小学鉛筆画手本 (*Shogaku Enpitsu-ga Tehon* or Copybook in Elementary Pencil Drawing) and 小学毛筆画手本 (*Shogaku Mohitsu-ga Tehon* or Copybook in Elementary Brush Drawing), and before long the definitive ones appeared: 新定画帖 (*Shin-tei Ga Cho* or New Standard Book in Drawing), with the subsets for the 3rd–6th graders being published in 1910 and those for the 7th and 8th graders in the next year.

<sup>18</sup> Practices of eating beef were seldom found in the prior periods in Japan, and, as for ironmaking, casting technology was not so widespread in contrast to the rich tradition of hammering iron and steel.

<sup>19</sup> Akagi/Yamaguchi 2015.

The series of 新定画帖 (*Shin-tei Ga Cho* or New Standard Book in Drawing) should be given special attention as an apex of the government's forty-year-long project in realizing the system of elementary art education, the topics of which comprehend all the significant domains of art making, that is, drawing techniques with the brush, the pencil, and other instrumental tools, watercolor painting, theories of colors and compositions, and decorative and mechanical designs. Absolutely, it is a crystallization of all the preceding attempts in the older textbooks, published both by the official and the private sectors,20 the extensive influence of which was also to be found in the pictures examined in the next section.

Moving our focus onto those pictures discovered in Tojo Town in the next sections, the historical fact that they were created by the first generation of students in the period when an accomplished level of elementary art instruction was universalized to all the children should always be remembered.

#### Book-bound works entitled Manabi-no-tsue

The aforementioned gathering of works of the Elementary School of Tojo, presumably made by its graduating 8th graders in 1912, was discovered in bound form, with its title of 學之杖 (*Manabi-no-tsue*, or Props in Learning) written on the cover. Though little record remains on the course of making the book, they are probably to have been tied together as a classroom circulating book with no facsimiles made other than the originals. It was a usual custom of those days to bind works of classmates, including essays and calligraphies as well as pictures, in order to stimulate students to appreciate their own progress and thus to be more motivated.

Thirty-seven pictures within the book can be classified roughly into two types, that is, those made under minute instruction by classroom teachers and those produced for students' spontaneous fun. While most of the latter are likely to have been made after school or on holidays, the former are seen as assigned school work, more clearly influenced by 新定画帖 (*Shin-tei Ga Cho* or New Standard Book in Drawing). Besides direct copies based on images printed in the book (see *» Figs. 5 and 6*), a group of seven works is noteworthy, two of which are shown as *» Figures 7 and 8*.

It seems that the teacher set two goals in assigning the subject: the composition of a fair view with real objects, autumn leaves in this case, and its reproduction. And the creators of the two pictures are seen to have successfully responded to the lesson's aims, and probably, they must have been already given proper instructions in developing the

<sup>20</sup> Among private publications, four textbooks were particularly investigated in Akagi/Yamaguchi 2015: Wakabayashi/Shirai 1883; Matsubara 1886–87, 1893, 1893–94. For Matsubara, also see note 24.

**6**

**8**

**Fig.5** Pigeon, created by a student of the Elementary School of Tojo named Date, Yoshiko, in: 學之杖 (*Manabi-no-tsue*, or Props in Learning), no page number, c. 1912.

**Fig.7** Autumn Leaves, created by a student of the Elementary School of Tojo named Mori, Umeyo, in: 學之杖 (*Manabi-no-tsue*, or Props in Learning), no page number, c. 1912.

**Fig.6** Pigeon, in: Ministry of Education: 新定 画帖 (*Shin-tei Ga Cho* or New Standard Book in Drawing), subset for the 7th graders, Tokyo 1911, Fig. 16.

**Fig.8** Autumn Leaves, created by a student of the Elementary School of Tojo named Yoshioka, Umeno: in*:* 學之杖 (*Manabi-no-tsue*, or Props in Learning), no page number, c. 1912.

sensitivity to the effect of light as well as the usage of watercolor paints, the large-scale production and distribution of which were then only recently under way in Japan.

The instructional method of this type of picture making, called *Ko'an-ga*, or devised pictures, was developed in the late Meiji era by those unsatisfied with older methods in the dawning stage of elementary art education, allegedly putting too much emphasis on the copying of printed images. 新定画帖 (*Shin-tei Ga Cho* or New Standard Book in Drawing), among editors of which Abe Shimekichi was an active advocate of devised pictures, also comprehended this new orientation, saying in its teachers' manual that certain images printed there should be used as a reference rather than a model to be copied. Lessons in devised pictures, as Abe's own claims,21 should be given to elementary learners, unready to make authentic artworks, with proper supports. Thus, it is stated that the two images shown here were among the earliest results of the method, the guidance to which was probably given by those teachers trained in newly launched Normal Schools and recently dispatched to Tojo Town.

Next, an investigation should be made into the pictures of the second type, or those produced for students' fun. A characteristic, found at a glance, is the influence of pop culture, seen to have started growing in the late nineteenth century. Then, many mass-produced publications full of attractive illustrations came to be constantly distributed around children, to which a far origin of *Manga* culture in contemporary Japan is traced. In *» Figure 9*, a soldier in army uniform of the latest style is depicted with multiform small brush strokes with watercolor paints which might be copied from an image inserted in a military reader, then fascinating many boys.22

Another example can be shown as *» Figure 10*, depicting a girl wearing a pretty big ribbon on the crown and another on the braid. Similar images are easily found in girls' journals of those days, equivalent to fashion magazines nowadays, by which the trend of fancy goods, accessories, and costumes were introduced countrywide.

Alongside 'popful' pictures, it should also be noted that traditional Eastern images were still surviving in the set. The atmosphere of a raftsman in a straw coat in *» Figure 11* is instantly associated with that of traditional ink paintings, though it is made with the pencil and watercolor.

Its vision is seen to have been largely imaginary because wooden rafts were then becoming out of date even in Tojo, thus the creator must have referred to those pictures made after the classical works in Japan and China, which were still being produced by many local artists nationwide. Interestingly as well, an ink painting depicting persons mimicking a sparrow dance can be found (see *»Fig. 12*), an apparent copy of an image in 北斎漫画 (*Hokusai Manga*),23 first published in 1814.

Katsushika Hokusai (1760–1849), needless to say, the most distinguished artist in the Edo period, was so appreciated by his contemporaries that 北斎漫画 (*Hokusai Manga*) was a best-seller among both professional and amateur art makers, and it is amazing even for Japanese researchers that his influence had remained strong among such remote young art learners for nearly a hundred years.

In concluding this chapter, another historical and more general account is necessary on the fact that the movement of "drawing education for all" was accelerated in Japan after the 1900's World Exposition in Paris. An international congress, held parallel to the Exposition, adopted a worldwide recommendation to promote general

<sup>22</sup> Even in such a relaxed style of art making, the effect of instructions through pictures in 新定画 帖 (*Shin-tei Ga Cho* or New Standard Book in Drawing) might be discerned, a page of which, introducing practices in drawing clothed human figures, is shown as *» Figure 14*.

<sup>23</sup> Many pictures of Katsushika Hokusai are online. As for 北斎漫画 (*Hokusai Manga*), a full set of the 15 volumes, printed in 1878, is available in the National Diet Library Digital Collection, Japan (http://dl.ndl.go.jp/?\_\_lang=en [23.3.2019]), which is accessed by typing "000000488231" (its Bibliographic ID) in the search box. And "sparrow dance", copied in 學之杖 (*Manabi-notsue*, or Props in Learning), is found in its third volume.

**Fig.9** Soldier, created by a student of the Elementary School of Tojo named Takada, Toyoji, in: 學之杖 (*Manabi-no-tsue*, or Props in Learning), no page number, c. 1912.

**Fig. 11** Raftsman, created by a student of the Elementary School of Tojo (Anonymous), in: 學之杖 (*Manabi-no-tsue*, or Props in Learning), no page number, c. 1912.

**Fig. 10** Girl, created by a student of the Elementary School of Tojo named Kondo (no information on the given name), in: 學之杖 (*Manabi-no-tsue*, or Props in Learning), no page number, c. 1912.

**Fig. 12** Persons Mimicking Sparrows' dance, created by a student of the Elementary School of Tojo (Anonymous), in: 學之杖 (Manabi-notsue, or Props in Learning), no page number, c. 1912.

art instruction for every child, not just for a small community of prospective artists. The issue must have been seen as more critical by art educators in Japan, who were then busy in preparing a new stage of 'universal' art education. Thus, the set of pictures shown in this section is stated to be a successful example of the movement, all of which reflect daily joys of making images, even if their perfections are never equal to those displayed in 穎才新誌 (*Eisai Shin-shi* or New Journal for the Excellent).

#### Elementary school days of a professional artist

Only a few graduates of upper elementary schools in the late Meiji era are assumed to have made their occupational living in art making as the schools were then expected to supply middle-class general workers, especially in such a remote town as Tojo, with the system of secondary education being so poorly established except in large cities. More than forty years having passed since the beginning of renewals, social organizations were already so stably fixed nationwide that many of Tojo's competent young art learners must have willingly chosen a realistic career in various fields which were, at best, slightly related to the art world, in contrast to those readers of 穎才新誌 (Eisai Shin-shi or New Journal for the Excellent) with over-confidence that they could be a pioneering person armed with skills in pictures.

In this final section, an eminent professional success named Ikeda Yoson (1895– 1988) should be introduced, who grew up in the elementary school system in the late Meiji era. He is one of the most celebrated artists in the genre of *Nihon-ga*, or the painting of Japan, the style of which was newly invented by early leaders attempting to re-establish the tradition of Japan's art, with Ernest Fenollosa (1853–1908) and Okakura Tenshin (1862–1913) listed first. Ikeda was born in Okayama Prefecture, the birth place of Matsubara Sangoro (1864–1946),24 who was the first to give professional-level instruction to Ikeda, then aged sixteen, at his private school in Osaka City.

Fortunately, fifteen school works made by Ikeda at the age of twelve and thirteen remain today in the collection donated by his descendants to Kurashiki City Art Museum. Among them, *» Figure 13*, graded as "specially excellent" by the teacher in charge, is the most elaborated one.

It is obviously based on an image printed in 小学鉛筆画手本 (*Shogaku Enpitsu-ga Tehon* or Copybook in Elementary Pencil Drawing*,* see chap. 3.a), probably used as a textbook in his upper elementary lessons. The skillfulness of young Ikeda never fails to catch serious attention, as *» Figure 13* is trying to achieve more truthful nuance to life with faint colors, lacking in the original. While, in the previous chapter, the policy of

<sup>24</sup> In Akagi/Yamaguchi 2015, the life and achievements of Matsubara Sangoro, painter and educator, was distinguished as a significant leader in the establishment phase of Japan's art instruction.

**13**

**14**

**Fig. 13** Ikeda Yoson's drawing of a drum (Kurashiki City Art Museum, c. 1908).

**Fig. 14** Human figures (in: Ministry of Education: 新定画帖 (*Shin-tei Ga Cho* or New Standard Book in Drawing), subset for the 8th graders, Tokyo 1911, Fig. 14).

"drawing education for all" was noted in describing the joy of local middle-elite students in art making, Ikeda, who was to keep his name in the center of the art world, is stated to be another success of the policy, whose young life, told in the biography on his elementary-school days, is full of episodes of how favorably his skills were praised and cherished by teachers.

Recently, a harmonious reconciliation between professional and general art education are becoming a more difficult task as the former emphasizes more authentic techniques in contrast to the latter's inclinations to find more values in childlike unmolded pictures. Therefore, the fact that both amateur and professional art seekers were properly brought up in the same elementary instruction system should be highly appreciated as a major achievement of the Meiji government, though the success never lasted long, with new art-instruction policies of different kinds continuously replacing older ones in the forthcoming period of "free drawing" and after.25

Note: The names of Japanese, including those of the authors of this paper, are always written with the family name first, conforming to the Japanese standard practice.

25 In the history of Japan's elementary art instruction, the movement of "free drawing", the precise implication of which is "drawing without copying a printed model", is said to have been initiated when Yamamoto Kanae (1882–1946) pushed the considerable results of free-drawing instruction widely open to the public in a remote elementary school in Nagano Prefecture in 1919. On the other hand, however, it should not be neglected that many children had already been drawing "freely" since the much earlier time, assumedly with some support by teachers. As proof of that, pictures in the free-drawing style are also found in 學之杖 (*Manabi-no-tsue*, or Props in Learning), examined in chap. 3.

#### Bibliography


The Archeology of Science), Tokyo 1997, pp. 160–195.


才新誌 (*Eisai Shin-shi* or New Journal for the Excellent), 52 (March 2, 1878), p. 2.

Wakabayashi, Torasaburo and Shirai Tsuyoshi (eds.): 改正教授術 (*Kaisei Kyouju Jutsu* or New Methodology of Teaching), Tokyo 1883.

Young, Michael: *The Rise of the Meritocracy*, London 1958.

# A Historical Review of Cultural Influences on Korean Art Education

Ok-Hee Jeong

#### Introduction

"The past and the present are connected to each other like a mountain range, and the present is gathered to form a sea of future."1

Reinterpretations of a particular historical event according to the present positions occur every year, to work towards a better future. Comparing the situation before and after Western art, culture and education were introduced to Korea, the different interpretations of the influences are being reassessed among Korean researchers who are trying to explore issues of cultural identity in Korean art education.2 Western influences in the history of Korean art education have been strongly interwoven with the adoption of American pedagogies in the establishment of modern education, such as Creativity-Enhanced Art Education (Child-Centered Art Education), DBAE (Discipline Based Art Education) and VCAE (Visual Culture Art Education). Since the establishment of the new public Korean education system during the Japanese occupation and then American military occupation, the adoption of Western pedagogical ideologies was promoted among South Korean art educators because the adoption of these pedagogical methods was viewed to be crucial for economic development.3

Therefore, taking a critical view of identity formation, the adoption of American pedagogies can be seen as a significant factor which impacted the Korean notion of identity. The passive adoption of Western pedagogies within the context of

3 Jeong 2007.

<sup>1</sup> "과거와 현재는 산맥처럼 연결되어 있으며, 현재는 미래의 바다로 이어진다." This quote comes from a special documentary series to commemorate the 65th year since the Korean Declaration of Independence. The article was broadcasted by KBS (Korean Broadcasting System) in August 2010.

<sup>2</sup> Kim 2008; Park 2009.

modernization by Japan and the US might be a reason why Korean curriculum planners and art educators today are coming to advocate traditional Korean art and culture in order to overcome the influence of Western art and culture. The growing critical position towards Western pedagogical influences has also raised the further issue of cultural identity by the use of diverse views of tradition within the current South Korean social context of celebrating cultural diversity as well as maintaining cultural tradition. Within the interaction between economic and cultural factors by capitalist globalization in recent decades, the issues of cultural identity in South Korea is in a state of constant flux in relation to the South Korean political, social and economic conditions.

This paper investigates the history of foreign influences on Korean art education and addresses the current issues of the historical context of the globalizing time and place.

#### Confucian curriculum before the opening to the West

Before the opening to the West, Korean educational theories were influenced by Buddhism and Confucianism introduced from China during the Goryeo Dynasty (tenth to thirteenth centuries) and the Josun Dynasty (fourteenth to eighteenth centuries). The two main philosophical influences were Confucian teaching regarded as sources for political wisdom, and Buddhist teaching for instilling lessons for individual behavior. Korean art education was also influenced by the Chinese practice of teaching children how to read, write and decipher Chinese classics. According to the documents of Confucian educational thought, aesthetic education and character development could be achieved by imitating the masterworks of the great philosophers. The way of learning art was a form of apprenticeship, where copying master works was central to training and a means of understanding Confucian philosophy. Calligraphy was always closely connected to the training, and it is possible that paintings were taught alongside calligraphy in the schools. The style of monochromatic works in black brushwork was produced by literary artists and was much imported by Chinese artists of the Southern Song academy during the Middle Ages. The Korean artists internalized the Chinese style of this period while adding their own interpretation of the original works. Since educators in the Josun Dynasty believed that individual human minds could be trained by handling ideas through lectures and memorization, the Confucian curriculum was concerned principally with mental or cognitive subject matter and the process was designed to guide learners through a gradual expansion of mental awareness (*»Fig. 1*).

However, these forms of art education were given only to the upper classes. Historical documents show that the oldest available historical reference to formal education in

Korea was the National Confucian Academy during the Josun Dynasty from 1392 to 1910.4 The influence of Confucian philosophy thus had a deep effect upon Korean social structures.5 The Academy of Painting called *Dohwawon* was established in order to educate and train the court painters at the request of the *Yangban* in a style suited to their patrons' tastes. Accordingly, most of these court painters painted landscapes in a style that portrayed idealized settings not found in the natural world. It is worth noticing that these views of art and art training were constructed within the political condition enforced by a Chinese political strategy of interference. Confucian philosophy served as the guiding principle of government by Confucian scholars, who received royal favors and were given important official positions.6 By gaining access to political power, many of the scholar-rulers of the early Josun Dynasty continued to hold positions of responsibility in educational institutions. This pathway of learning art has been considered until now to be the traditional form of Korean art training. This Chinese influence on the Korean education system is still powerful and current attitudes value academic qualifications as a means to upgrade their social class.


### Christian missionary pedagogy opening to Western art and education: 1885–1910

Even though Korean educational practices and pedagogies opening to the West were heavily influenced by Chinese political interference, Korean people tend to ensure Confucian education is traditionally Korean. During the last few decades of the Josun Dynasty, 1885 to 1905, the influence of Western civilization reached Korea, prompting the need to renovate the established education system. At the end of the nineteenth century, Western nations made ambitious efforts to develop contact with Korea for various purposes, mainly trade, and concurrently Japan proposed the establishment of diplomatic relations after the Meiji Restoration. In 1894 the Political Reform Movement by lower classes such as agrarians and merchants was the first modern revolution, requiring the transformation of the Yangban-centered society into a democratic society giving equal rights to everyone, most akin to ideologies in the French Revolution in the West. Nonetheless, the Korean government was too conservative to encompass a new direction for the country's development in the rapidly changing external and internal environment. Thus, "basically the isolation policy of the monarchy and the feudalistic sentiments of the people hampered and delayed the introduction of independent modernization and modern education."7

In the period from 1885 to 1905, Western modern education models were indirectly introduced to Korea along with Christianity by American Protestant missionaries.8 They influenced the underprivileged people to change their behavior and inspired them to accept Christian principles that were radically new, such as equality, freedom, individual dignity, and democracy. By establishing private missionary schools, they introduced the Western system of secondary school curriculum to Korea. Therefore, the Christian missionaries played an active role in cultivating a variety of revolutions in Korean education. The Western institutionalized education model for common people was one of the radical phenomena introduced at a time when women and the lower classes had few educational opportunities in Confucian societies. The contribution to Korean education was not only the teaching of Christian principles but also the theory of teaching and curriculum development. They spread the idea that education was for everyone – for the powerful and the powerless, the rich and the poor, men and women – and awareness of democracy became the nurturing ground of nationalism, the patriotic independence movement and political struggle for democracy during the period of the Japanese occupation (1910–1945).

In the early 1880s Western art was also introduced to Korea in a similar manner to Christianity and unequivocally exerted a by-no-means negligible influence. Among

7 Rhee 1996, p. 59.

8 Kim 1982.

**Fig.2** Hee-Dong Go, Self-portrait with a Hand Fan, 1915, National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art, Korea.

foreign residents who came to Korea with the missionaries, there were some painters who implanted Western arts in the Korean language. Korean imports from the Western art world included Western paper, pencils, musical instruments, sculptures and paintings.9 The first Korean artist of Western painting, Hee-Dong Go (1886–1965), who had worked as an internal administrative manager in the Palace of Kyongbok, was exposed to Western painting through the French missionaries. He tried to imitate this sort of painting and exhibited his mimetic work in a salon. This was the first oil painting produced by a Korean artist (*»Fig. 2*).

9 Park 1972.

At this point, Chosun was taken over by Japan, and in 1909 he went to Japan to study Western painting at the Dokyo Fine Art School. Since the Korean artist's return to Korea in 1915 after completing his studies, Koreans have called such oil painting 'Western' painting. Until then, there was no word for art in Korea, there were only specific words such as calligraphy, painting, craft, and so on in the name of art practice. The art practice which was regarded as fine art was painting. When Western drawings and paintings were introduced to Korean culture, they were recognized as typical Western art practice, as other forms of art practice such as ceramics, sculpture and printmaking were not recognized as fine art but artisan work. These forms were introduced later than painting, during the period of Japanese occupation. The black brush literary drawing style, which was produced by high class literary artists, had been recognized as traditional fine art practice by the Korean people until Western painting was introduced to the society. Therefore, Western modern painting produced with typical materials and tools such as oil color was recognized as a style of Western culture, which had to be accepted along with Western modernization, as contrasted to the 'traditional' Korean painting.

### Division into 'traditional' Korean and 'Western' style during the period of Japanese colonization: 1910–1945

Although Western educational ideas were introduced to Korea in 1895, Korea's development was halted by the Japanese occupation from 1910 to 1945, which involved political suppression, economic exploitation and cultural assimilation. Rhee remarks that the Japanese desire for territorial expansion and colonization was quite different from European colonization:

Whereas Britain, France and Holland, for example, used their colonies as suppliers of raw materials and did not intend to make the people of the colonies citizens of their own country, Japan intended to make Korea a part of the Japanese country in terms both of territory and race. Given the racial similarities between Koreans and Japanese, the Japanese colonial rulers attempted to suppress Korean nationalism and identity whenever possible. It was largely for this reason that they did not want to produce highly educated Koreans.10

<sup>10</sup> Rhee 1996, p. 79: "영국, 프랑스, 네덜란드가 그들의 식민지를 자신들의 물질공급처로 여 기고 자신들의 나라의 시민들로 만들고자 한 것과 달리 일본은 한국을 자국으로 완전한 동화를 시도하였다. 한국과 일본 간의 인종적 유사점을 생각했을 깨 일본식민통치는 가

This remark is supported by the document outlining the educational principles which Japan employed in Korea during this period. The Japanese colonial government adopted a system of public education designed to help incorporate Koreans into the Japanese culture and to make them useful citizens in a new industrialized, exploitative society. The Japanese authorities forced Koreans to speak Japanese. Korean students were not allowed to speak their mother tongue under the penalty of expulsion from school. Textbooks were no longer printed in the Korean language during the colonial time in the 1920s.11 Within the education system that was conducted in Japanese, there was no way to develop the desired harmony between the rational system of Western art education and the Korean tradition in education. According to Rhee, the content of art education under Japanese colonial rule concentrated on skill and techniques to manufacture military supplies for the Japanese Army. He argues that, "it was a critical loss for Korea not to be able to develop their own art education."12

The power of Japan's colonization permeated through the art textbooks called *Dohaimbon* (*»Fig. 3*), which were published in Korea during that period. The art textbooks produced by the Japanese curriculum planner played a powerful role in controlling Korean people. The methods of instructing how to draw objects with the brush were completely different from the teaching approaches to traditional Korean paintings and drawings with black brushes (see and compare with *»Fig. 1*).

These illustrations were used for art classes in schools during the period of Japanese domination in South Korea. The drawing methods were recognized as 'Western' ways for Korean art teachers who were used to drawing in different ways in the form of black brush paintings. The art textbook was focused on observing the objects and expressing the figures by applying geometric perspective, while the "traditional" drawing methods were not concerned with the use of perspective but only with imitating great masters' works or imagining the objects with skillful brush techniques.

능한 한 한국의 국민주의와 정체성을 억압하고자 하였고 고도의 지적이고 엘리트적으로 한국인들이 교육받는 것을 원하지 않았다."

11 Rhee 1996.

<sup>12</sup> Rhee 1996, p. 250: "한국인들이 그들만의 미술교육을 발전시켜나갈 수 없게 한 비평적 손실이었다."

**Figs. 3 a–d** Drawing example in the First Korean National Textbook that was published during Japanese colonization period Dowhaimbon, 1920, Textbook Museum, Korea.

### Western pedagogies accepted during the US military service: 1945–1955

Even though the colonization ended and the Second World War finished in 1945, Korea was still suffering from political exploitation because it was divided into two parts: the southern part was occupied by the US while the northern part was controlled by the Soviet Union. Since dividing into north and south, South Korea had been helped by the Commanding General of the American forces. In 1948 the First Republic of Korea was established, but in 1950 came the Korean War triggered by North Korean invasion. Many schools were destroyed and many of the teachers and college faculty members were killed for political reasons. As a result of this, South Korea constantly needed US military assistance.13

During this period, the development of the educational system was hindered and Western educational theories were introduced to South Korea by the US. The new public education implemented by the US was fundamentally reconstructed to eliminate any previous colonial vestige and to introduce American pedagogies and Western educational theory and practice. The pedagogies and ideologies were based both on a "scientific outlook" and "democratic ideals and values"14 which were in contrast to the metaphysical ideologies of Confucianism and Buddhism. The differences between Western and Oriental ideas on education became apparent to the Korean people. For those who argued that education should concern mental awareness influenced by the Confucian scholarship, the adoption of the Western pedagogies grounded on the scientific ideology seemed inappropriate to Korean art education, and they were reluctant to the adoption of Western art and educational approaches to the National Curriculum. However, in contrast some of the oriental approaches to art works were regarded as old and unscientific in the practices of the Korean art world.

In South Korea after the acceptance of Western painting, tradition was regarded as the opposite of "modern", or "Western" in the particular context. According to art critic Kyung-Sung Lee, the viewpoint of traditional painting prevailed during the 1950s, and young artists were paying attention to the Informal Art of post-war Europe and the Abstract Expressionism of the US.15 They felt affinity with the spontaneity and subjective expression of these movements and looked for a model of modern art. The issues confronting the Korean art world were rationalization, modernization and globalization, according the Korean art critics in the 1950s. In the light of such atmosphere in the contemporary Korean art world, the viewpoint of tradition affected Korean modern school art education that was established after the war. Through the

<sup>13</sup> Dobbs 1981.

<sup>14</sup> Kim 1982, p. 25.

<sup>15</sup> Kyung-Sung Lee 1954.

**Fig. 4** Cover of a primary school textbook (전시부독본 –겨울공부용), Textbook published by Korean Education Association, 1951.

stream of Western modern art in 1951, it can be seen how such Western approaches to drawing were embedded and assimilated into school art practice.

In 1955 the first National Curriculum was announced by the Ministry of Education in Korea. The first major task was the construction of an educational law in order to insure the efficient conduct of the educational system because it regarded education as essential to nation building. Regarding the National Curriculum for Art, the curriculum planners were influenced by the American military and politicians who had the authority to select the contents of the art curriculum (*»Fig. 4*).16

This means that the Korean National Curriculum has been institutionalized to meet domestic goals for economic development in the South Korean context of American intervention.17

17 Kim 2000.

<sup>16</sup> "전시부독본 –겨울공부용" After the war, the text book consisted of making planes, ships and technical vehicles.

**Figs. 5 a, b** Images from an art exhibition pamphlet of children's paintings accompanied by art teachers' training sessions in the 1950s, private collection.

**a**

**b**

At the beginning of establishing the curriculum, the Ministry of Education invited the Peabody Delegation on Education in the United States to provide advice on a new beginning for teacher training. Re-educating art teachers was an important stimulus for improving the ideals, goals, materials, methods and evaluation of art education. The Peabody Delegation's goal of school art education was that students should be encouraged to develop self-expression and creativity.18 Art was regarded at that time as a necessary subject for the development of perception through creative expression in the US. This art education philosophy for free expression was based on the educational writings of John Dewey.19 Equally, Lowenfeld's model20 of Creativity-Enhanced education by means of art and educational developmental processes formulated by Herbert Read21 helped towards a systemization of art education and the improvement of teaching art in schools. These models, which emphasized therapeutic experience and the role of art activities to educate students' abilities and responsibilities for well-being


<sup>18</sup> Kim 2000.

in society, looked quite reasonable for the curriculum planners in the context of the contemporary Korean social chaos after the war (*» Figs. 5 a, b*).

However, in the social conditions following the war there were not enough teachers with awareness of such pedagogies based on the post-war modern art world. South Korean art education practices continued to teach the approaches that focused on developing art skills as implemented during the period of Japanese occupation. Most Korean teachers also found it difficult to eliminate these educational methods and to adopt art education towards an emphasis on creativity and self-expression. Although the government had to recruit a number of teaching staff to teach art in schools, and although the teachers were aware of the purpose of teaching art to encourage children's self-expression and individuality in accordance with Western pedagogies, the teachers could not help but teach art by the methods which were taught during the Japanese colonial period, and put these methods into practice in Korean school art education. In contexts that had been modernized by the Japanese and the Americans, Korean art teachers' educational ideas and perceptions by the 1980s were still deeply rooted in Confucian philosophy, which had become ingrained in Korea's way of living. It can be argued that the fusion of educational ideologies and approaches between the Western pedagogies, Japanese approaches to skill and the Chinese philosophy were what constituted South Korean art education at this time.

### Influences of Western pedagogies on the national curriculum for art: 1960 – present

Since the establishment of the first national curriculum in 1955, there have been eight revisions due to policy changes of the elected government. In the 1960s, the idea of nationalism began to be established and the trend of advocating nationhood reached a new prominence as the Korean government wanted real independence from the US. The first step in justifying nationalism was to establish Korean cultural identity against the background of outside influences. With the advent of the Park presidency in 1962, the curriculum planners tried to invent a revival of Korean tradition by focusing on "Koreaness." As a result of this, the national curriculum in the 1970s promoted Korean tradition and cultural heritages. At this time, tradition seemed to be defined as the spirit, customs, values, or heritage that was formed and passed down through history belonging to a certain community, ethnic group or nation.22

Under the Park regime in 1973, the Third National Curriculum for Art consisted of four sections including painting, sculpture, design and craft. In the painting section,

22 Kim 2008.

Western paintings were separated from traditional Korean painting while the sculpture and design sections consisted almost entirely of Western art practice. This might have been because the planners recognized "traditional" sculpture, design and craft as artisan work at the point when Western sculpture works and design works were introduced during the Japanese occupation along with Western painting. Such "traditional" Korean sculpture and craft works were included to understand traditional arts and cultural heritage in the sections of art history and art appreciation in the art textbooks published in the 1970s. This demonstrates how the South Korean curriculum planners recognized the view of "traditional" art. At that time during the late 1970s, 1980s and 1990s, there were enormous changes in the Korean contemporary art world as well as in the whole of society precipitated by the political democratic movement and rapid economic development. During this period, the typical art practices with representational images had almost disappeared and were being replaced with work in monochrome. Most South Korean painters used a single color usually white or a neutral color. These artworks reveal abstract forms such as space, strength, order, and harmony of nature (*» Figs. 6, 7*). Some of those artists sought to become at one with nature through a profound understanding of the East Asian tradition of art. South Korean artists, who were trained in the US, were trying to represent the differences between Korean art and Western art by bringing traditional images of Korean art to the fore. They used the beauty of white as a key traditional color. As a traditional Korean color, white was the symbol of 'white-ism', which Yanagi Muneyoshi demonstrated as 'the beauty of sorrow' and 'naïve' in a sense of oriental aesthetics.23 This sense initially comes from the tragic Korean historical experience when it was colonized by other people and the color white was the typical color of clothes, representing a symbol of sorrow for Korean people who were exploited by the ruling group during the colonized period. For Korean artists who were trying to overcome poor conditions, the monochrome art movement was interpreted as a representation of Korean tradition by using white.

At this time, the content of the curriculum consisted of art education theory based on modernity and progressivism adopted from the US, in common with other countries which had been colonized. For these countries, modernization was often regarded as 'Westernization'. In the 1980s and 1990s these Korean art educators introduced Western contemporary art theories into South Korean art education practice. At that time Western modern art was speedily introduced to South Korean art education theories and practices, whereas the South Korean contemporary art world started to recognize the dominant Western influences on Korean art practices, and sought a way to combine Western art approaches with traditional Korean themes and media as illustrated in *» Figures 6 and 7*.

**Fig.6** Chang-sub Jeong, Dock, 1986, 330 x 190 cm, traditional Korean paper (한지/韓紙), Kimdaljin Art Research and Consulting.

**Fig.7** Seo-bo Park, Ecriture No. 910614, 1991, 130 x 162 cm, private collection.

During the period from the late 1980s and the 1990s, change in South Korean art education theory and practice was both gradual and revolutionary. By the time the Olympics opened in Seoul in 1988, the government had attempted to introduce traditional Korean culture into the curriculum, however, at the same time it realized that in relation to economic development and developing an international trade position, it needed to maintain Western influences on the curriculum. In the 1990s a close connection between education and economic planning occurred and the Ministry of Education designed educational development plans in close cooperation with the Economic Planning Board. The intention was to promote the people's abilities through economic development. Their concern of 'internationalism' was an effort that gradually accepted the Western influence in the educational, political, and cultural fields to respond and communicate great changes in the context of globalization, and concurrently enforced in people the revival of tradition to inspire national consciousness.

With these concerns, South Korean art educators adopted Discipline Based Art Education (DBAE) from the US in 1997, which was an approach to art education comprising four parts: art history, aesthetics, art criticism and art practice. DBAE was considered as a positive development for the Korean national curriculum which was reformed under the recent open-market policy of the South Korean Government, termed "internationalization". Consequently, the seventh Korean National Curriculum for Art, starting in 2000, was structured to include the adoption of DBAE. However, in common with other countries which adopted the DBAE movement, South

Korean art educators and the Ministry of Education believed that the discourse of cultural diversity and the introduction of multiculturalism by the adoption of DBAE were appropriate for the central aim of "internationalization" in Korean educational policy at the time. But the multiculturalism was used for the policy which is to conserve, develop and introduce Korean national culture and heritage to the global open market from an economic position, rather than to celebrate cultural diversity.

Meanwhile, the South Korean government introduced the more recent development in "Visual Culture Art Education (VCAE)" to the new Korean curriculum, which was revised in 2010.24 As evidenced in international conference programs and art education publications, the proponents of visual culture art education, such as Duncum, Freedman, Wilson and Tavin,25 argue that art education must expand to embrace all forms of visual culture and seek to contribute to an ongoing understanding of the socio-cultural and political production of the visual. This shift requires replacing traditional forms of art and art education and placing emphasis on the deeper values, meanings and purposes in the light of critical views of culture. The purpose of art teaching according to this pedagogy should be "about students making and viewing the visual arts to understand their meanings, purposes, relationships and influences."26 This very much concerns identity formation in the pedagogical context of visual art practices. The adoption of VCAE could be a reasonable development in the South Korean contemporary position, which is encountering a diverse cultural environment through the advance of foreign labor, international marriage, and the development of economic exchanges. It is increasingly being noticeable that South Korea is now no longer a mono-cultural nation and is in a position to recognize other cultures and to demand cultural and educational policy for diverse ethnic students.27

The above art works of current secondary school students in South Korea show the influences of the pedagogic practice of Visual Culture Art Education. Nonetheless, skill-based art practices are still more dominant in school art practice because of the entrance systems of higher education and art teachers' conservative attitude toward art education embedded in the institutionalized school art educational discourses and practices.


<sup>24</sup> Korean Ministry of Education and Human Resources Development 2006.

<sup>25</sup> Duncum 2000, 2002, 2004; Freedman 2003 a, b; Wilson 2004; Tavin 2000.

### Current issues of Western influences on Korean art education

Since the modern education system was established during Korean modernization by Japan and the US, the subjects of art practices in the university education system and the national curriculum have been divided into Korean painting (oriental painting), Western painting, sculpture, design and craft in South Korea. This division of the curriculum of art practices was established by Japanese influences on Korean modern education. This has affected Korean school art education practice and the national curriculum for art. Students who are taking higher education are trained according to their chosen curriculum of art practice. What we need to consider concerns the division of Korean painting and Western painting.

*» Figure 8* is the example photo of Western painting training for teaching instruction.

On the other hand, the training for Korean painting is conducted differently by teachers qualified as Korean painting artists because traditional art practice was focused on traditional painting.

Comparing the two different types of painting called Korean and Western, we see that the painting differences are based on the materials and skills, but the objects are not differentiated significantly. Due to this division in painting subjects, South Korean students are trained separately according to their choice of subject. The tension of two divided types of painting in Korean art education can be found in the issues of political, economic and cultural factors affecting the revisions of the Korean national curriculum for art. The photo of Korean art education practices show what kinds of art practice are being taught in schools and how the Western pedagogies and the "traditional" attitudes are now influencing the practical Korean art education. The current South Korean school art practice shows that, in the rapid processes of globalization, such concerns and practices of the issues of tradition and cultural heritage still remain in the paradigm of multiculturalism that is no longer a mono-cultural society given the increasing population of foreign workers and international marriages. Even if such social changes resulted from the rapid economic development that has led the Korean people to try to form curriculum and policy appropriate for a multicultural society, there is the need to keep their own national tradition appropriate for the current South Korean multicultural society, beyond the political ideologies assumed under American colonial-cultural influence. What should be considered here is that such a flow of globalization, which involves an interaction between economic and cultural factors and constructs a complex map of cultural spaces all over the world, is questioning of culture and identity in diverse and complex ways.

**Fig.8** Studio photos of art institution for students who are going to do Western painting as a subject at art college, taken in 2009 by the author.

#### Summary and implications

According to the history of cultural influences on Korean art education, and taking into account changes in the political and economic backgrounds, I have come to the conclusion that Korean people have considered Japanese and Western cultural influences to be the only foreign elements in the formation of their cultural identity since the time of the Japanese occupation of Korea between 1905 and 1945. However, it is necessary to examine the elements that existed before the opening of Korea to the West, such as the influence of Confucianism and Buddhism during the political intervention of China, passive opening to the West under Japanese colonization and the dominant Western cultural influences from the USA within the context of rapid economic development. Korean art education before the opening to the West had been conducted with art training through mimetic activities and the copying of masters' work, which was influenced by the educational thought of Confucianism and Buddhism from China. This mimetic art training was perceived as the traditional Korean art education prior to the adoption of modern art education from the West. During the period of Japanese colonization and US military government, American educational ideology and pedagogies were transmitted and adopted within a milieu of economic, political and social chaos. It can be argued that the Western aesthetic approach and art educational models were passively adopted from the political and cultural forces of Japan and the USA. The dominance of American (Western) influence on South Korean education demonstrates how education emerged as a significant factor that has had an impact on South Korean art educators' and curriculum planners' perceptions of cultural identity.

It can be argued that the strong American influence on Korean art education introduces the issues of cultural hegemony and "ever-greater resentment on the part of those who feel disempowered by the dominance of Western capitalism."28 On the other hand, it can also be seen that the rapid economic developments and the process of globalization could be perceived as being achieved under the impact of American culture and educational ideologies. Within the political and social condition of the cultural influences of China, Japan and the USA, South Korean people including art educators might have perceived "tradition" as a means of overcoming the dominant Western cultural influences. In the current globalizing cultural flow, the position for advocating nationalism to establish Koreans' own cultural identity may be differently debated according to how the adoption of Western culture, art and education theories into Korea is recognized by South Koreans. Bearing in mind the fact the colonial influence of both China and Japan in Korea, it is questionable how the educational ideology of Confucianism and Buddhism can be considered as "traditional" to Korea before its opening to the West. This question is concerned with the issue of "identity politics" according to recent globalization phenomena, in which the reassertion of a "perceived" national identity might conflict with the celebration of cultural diversity.29

In order to understand this constitutive process, the imposition of a model of the past on the present is necessary to situate the mirrors in space and their movement in time. The past is a past constructed and reproduced in the present. Therefore, it is necessary to account for the processes that generate those contexts in order to account for the nature of both the practice of identity and the production of historical schemes. The debate between acceptance of cultural diversity and revival of tradition within the globalizing context is an issue which can be analyzed in the light of critical insights of the cultural formation of pedagogic identities.

<sup>29</sup> Hall 1990, 1996, 1997; Woodward 1997a, b.

#### Bibliography


# Drawing in China Art and Art Education in the Wake of Modern China

Xin Hu

Due to its long history, Chinese painting has developed its own forms, contents and techniques. Unique materials, such as rice paper, brush and ink are elements of classical Chinese painting. But Chinese art has always been significantly more than just learning the technique of painting. Worldview, sense of esthetics and a noble personality were always guidelines of art and art education in China. Although Western art and its techniques was known in China as early as the 16th century, there was no systematic application and usage of drawing comparable to academy level up until the beginning of the twentieth century.

An early influence of Western art is documented during the Qing dynasty, where Chinese painters became assistants to Western artists in order to learn their painting techniques, for example the concept of perspective. A well-known Western artist was Giuseppe Castiglione (1688–1766). Castiglione was born in Milan, turned Jesuit and spent over 50 years as a court painter and architect for three emperors of the Qing dynasty. He died in Beijing on July 17, 1766. He became well known for his merging of Chinese and Western style in his paintings (*»Fig. 1*).

**Fig. 1** Giuseppe Castiglione, *Ma-Cang Lays Low the Enemy Ranks* (part), ink and color on paper, 38,4 x 285,9 cm, National Palace Museum, Taipeh.

Traditionally, education was that of a master and apprentice. A typical occupation until the end of the nineteenth century was that of apprentices focusing primarily on copying art works of their masters, whereas drawing, as it had developed through the Renaissance, had little impact. Paintings were predominantly geared towards the wishes of the emperor, however the educational approach during the last dynasty adopted knowledge of perspective, color and light, and bore first elements of modern education in China.1

### China's educational reforms at the beginning of the twentieth century

From the First Opium War (1839–1842) until beginning of the twentieth century, China was caught up in a series of military conflicts with Western nations2. In order to maintain the empire and its structures and at the same time to push for necessary reforms, the Qing dynasty (1644–1911) instated the "Self-Strengthening Movement" that promoted the "learning of Western techniques". This approach was supposed to gain practical advantages through the introduction of progressive Western methods and therefore stabilize existing political structures.

The political movement "Hundred Days of Reform 1898" (Wuxu Bianfa 戊戌变法) was supposed to reform the empirical structures "from within." These reform efforts however could not prevent the cessation of the empire – amidst the ongoing military conflicts with Western nations and Japan. Even after the Republic of China was founded in 1912, the country remained in a state of massive political, economic and sociocultural reconstruction.3

The primary problem during this restructuring of the educational system was the lack of teachers on all levels of education. The demand for teachers was so excessively high that it promoted the foundation of a series of private schools.

Since the second half of the nineteenth century, Chinese students were regularly sent abroad for education. Due to the defeat after The First Sino-Japanese War, Japan was considered to be advanced and therefore an ideal country for the further education of Chinese people. Both countries shared lingual and cultural similarities that facilitated this development. Those first Chinese students with education in Japan are considered the first generation of internationally educated students. These gradually

<sup>1</sup> Pan 2003, p. 10.

<sup>2</sup> For example, Great Britain, France, USA and Russia. A first defeat against Great Britain in 1842 (First Opium War) followed several other military conflicts that led to a series of lopsided treaties regulating trade and land leases. Hu 2011, p. 27.

<sup>3</sup> Hu 2011, p. 27.

replaced the many Japanese teachers employed by Chinese schools. Politically, this was considered an important measure to decrease Japan's direct influence in China.

After WW I, Chinese students preferred European countries and the U.S. for education abroad as they were aware that Japan itself learned its methods from Western nations. Students educated in Europe and the U.S. later had a profound influence on China's art education.4

In 1919 China experienced a political movement known as "May Fourth Movement." This movement developed out of the "New Culture Movement" started around 1915 that was driven by academics rejecting classical culture. This movement favored human rights standards typical for Western nations and demanded the promotion of modern Western techniques.

This movement had a distinctively open character and intended to influence the population's opinion. Traditional Confucian values were considered to be responsible for the political weakness, and the movement called for a rejection of these values and the selective adoption of Western ideals. Leading guidelines for this restructuring movement were "Science" and "Democracy," as applied by Western nations. This movement initiated a change in social sciences, such as language and script education, literature, philosophy, as well as art and music toward what was considered modern.

This cultural movement also initiated a crisis in Chinese art that resulted in a broad dismissal of traditional Chinese painting. In those days, traditional Chinese painting lost substantially in reputation. Traditional painting was considered "unscientific" and "backward oriented." In an attempt to "improve" Chinese painting, many young people were led to go abroad in search of means to improve Chinese art. Typical for this development are differences in the value perception of their own Chinese and that of foreign Western art. A rather concrete solution for an improvement of Chinese painting came to be known as the "melting style." The "melting style" was not only a new style in Chinese painting but also offered new content and direction in the art of painting.

Due to the reforms at the beginning of the twentieth century, drawing, more precisely the drawing of plaster objects, was introduced to the curriculum of art schools at various levels of education. Aside from that, the curriculum also included traditional Chinese painting with brush stroke and calligraphy.

The first educational school to offer a course in drawing for art teachers was the university of Nanjing (两江师范学堂 *Liangjiang shifan xuetang*), which was founded in 1902. In 1906 the university received an extension for the education of art teachers.

<sup>4</sup> For example Li Shutong (1880–1942) and Gao Jianfu (1879–1951) both to Japan, Li Tiefu (1869– 1952) to the USA, Zhang Daofan (1897–1968) to England/France, Lü Sibai (1905–1973) to France. Hu 2011, pp. 231–232.

This counts as the start of art education in modern China.5 The course in drawing included exercises in drawing with a pencil and coal.

Since then many other educational schools with a curriculum including drawing and handicraft were put into place, for example in Tianjin (北洋师范学堂 *Beiyang shifan xuetang*) and Zhejiang (浙江两级师范学堂 *Zhe Jiang liangji shifan xuetang*).

The second opium war (1856–1860) initiated various students going abroad for studies. Most went to Japan to study painting. Particularly noteworthy is Zhou Xiang (1871–1933)6. Zhou initially studied Chinese painting, but due to his involvement in the flawed reform movement "Hundred Days of Reform 1898," he opted to continue his studies abroad. Around the turn of the century, he went first to Japan, then to Europe. In the course of almost ten years of studies abroad, he returned to China in 1910. In 1911 he founded the private "School for Chinese and Western painting." The school had been renamed several times into (中西图画函授学堂 *Zhongxi tuhua hanshou xuetang*), to *Bujinghua chuanxi suo* (布景画传习所), *Shanghai youhua yuan* (上海油画院)and finally to *Zhonghua meishu daxue* (中华美术大学).

The school offered courses in painting, calligraphy and carving for its initial 30 students. As photography became popular during these years, the school offered special courses for the commercial production of background motives for photography studios. After 15 years of existence, the school closed primarily because its focus was too much on catering to commercial needs. However, the school had some significant impact on students that would become of importance for the future Chinese art culture.

As teachers in many institutions for art education were actual artists, obvious reciprocal developments in art and art education could be observed. Teachers had either lived and studied abroad for a long time or had, due to their travel activity, a noticeable influence from Western art. Also personal opinions of these artists had a strong influence. Best known artists of this "melting style" were Xu Beihong (1895–1953), Lin Fengmian (1900–1991) and Liu Haisu (1896–1994).

Liu Haisu (1896–1994) played a decisive role in the development of modern-time art education in China. Born in the city of Changzhou, he learned painting from early on. Zhou Xiang was his teacher for Western painting. Liu, together with young artists Wu Shiguang and Wang Yachen, founded the Drawing and Art School of Shanghai (上海图画美术院 *Shanghai tuhua meishuyuan*) in 19127. Progressive and somewhat scandalized in public were the school's teaching program for nude drawing. This institution in Shanghai counts as the first modern Chinese private art school. Liu was 17 at that time.


**Fig.2** Liu Haisu, *Huang Shan*, ink and colour on paper, 1190 x 4930 mm, 1985, Great Hall of the People Beijing Description: Lius favourite subject was the painting of landscapes, in particular the mountain range Huang Shan.

In 1915 nude drawing became part of the curriculum for the Art School of Shanghai. The first model was a 15-year-old boy. Grown-up males followed. With the summer exhibition in 1917 some of these drawings were exhibited, which generated a good amount of discussion. In 1919 Liu and another artist organized an exhibition that included figure oil paintings. A civil servant issued a protest with the authorities that nude art would have a negative effect of public morale. The authorities ordered Liu to remove the paintings. Luckily, the exhibition came to an end anyhow. In the early 1920s, public opinion somewhat calmed down, only to heat up again in 1924 with an exhibition of pieces of nude art organized through the Art School of Shanghai in the city of Jiangxi (Nanchang province). The local police ordered a discontinuation of the exhibition including the destruction of the art works. In 1925 the authorities successfully put in place a prohibition for the use of nude models. Despite Liu Haisu's efforts to convince the educational department and the general public of the value of nude art as part of art education, many conservatives verbally attacked Liu up until a point in 1926 where Liu faced imprisonment. With the aid of the French ambassador, the dispute was cleared with a trial.8

This controversy was highly symbolic for the fight between conservative forces and a new China and had a significant impact on the development of Chinese culture in the course of the twentieth century. From the foundation until 1952, Liu was head of this school. Nowadays, this school counts as a milestone for art education and art development in modern China. 9 Liu and his own painting style later became part of the style known as the "melting style" (*»Fig. 2*).

8 Hu 2011, pp. 91–92.

9 Hu 2011, pp. 85–92.

Lin Fengmian (1900–1990), another important figure in the modern development of art and art education, was born on November 22, 1900 in the province of Guangdong. His grandfather was a mason and therefore also had some proficiency in wood carving. Furthermore, his father was known as a good painter. When Lin turned six, he started learning to paint assisted by his father. He practiced painting from the "Mustard Seed Garden Manual of Painting" (芥子园画谱), a compilation of art exercises first issued in 1679. He furthered his expertise through education in France. His teacher of that time was Hubert Yancesse, who later recommended Lin applied to the Cormons Studio in Paris. 10

After his return to China, Lin Fengmian became the first president of the State Art Academy. He later accepted a position as president to the Committee of Art Education in Nanjing. 11

Lin's personal painting style differed significantly from Liu Haisu's. His style favored exaggerated forms, abundant and an almost courageous use of color. Compositions were typically quadratic. Lin used mainly ink and applied techniques of wiping, but rarely can an expression of traditional Chinese ink painting be detected. As an inspiration he deliberately ignored a natural form and rather concentrated on putting some expression of feelings into his works. Part of Lin's inspiration came from Expressionism (*»Fig.3*).

Lin Wenzheng (1903–1989), as the curriculum's coordinator for the academy, put together a curriculum following his vision for China's Academy of Art in 1934. A special focus was put on the function of drawing within this curriculum in a very European understanding:

Painting, sculpting and design all belong to the art of design and composition and therefore have the same basis. As mathematics is a part of natural science, drawing is a part of design and composition. It was an initial mistake of our schools to ignore the importance of drawing. The apprentice was taught a bit of drawing with a pencil to be followed immediately by water colour and oil painting. This educational approach can be compared to a baby being put in an athletics competition. There is no free fall into this matter. Addressing this mistake, we have put a special focus on drawing in the first two years of the upper level, where a specialization follows in the third year. The expertise shown in drawing determines the choice of a specialization. If highest proficiency in drawing is reached, students can be admitted to the department of painting or to all other departments. If a good level of proficiency in drawing is reached, students can be admitted to the departments of sculpting or design. With an average proficiency, they can still be admitted to the department of design.12

<sup>10</sup> Hu 2011, pp. 93–94.

<sup>11</sup> Lin 1996, pp. 123–158; Lin 1999, pp. 229–298.

<sup>12</sup> Lin 1999, pp. 153–157.

**Fig.3** Lin Fengmian, *Nude*, ink and color on paper, 67 x 68 cm, 1980s, Shanghai Chinese Painting Academy.

### Xu Beihong's part in the development of drawing and art education

The artist and art teacher Xu Beihong played a decisive role in the introduction of drawing in China. Xu Beihong was born on July 19th, 1895 in the Yixing province of Jiangsu. His father was a professional painter and educated his son in traditional Chinese ink painting.

At the age of 18, he went to Japan for further studies, but returned due to financial shortage. Shortly thereafter in 1919 he went to Europe for further education and spent time primarily in France, Germany and in Italy. Aside from his studies, Xu organized numerous Chinese art exhibitions in Germany. After his return to China, he applied his knowledge to his teachings at the art academy.13

Xu Beihong's stay in Europe was guided by a clear vision to find means to improve Chinese painting. As young Xu Beihong arrived in Paris in 1921, many classical works as displayed in various museums left him with a profound impression. For instance, he is known to have made several copies of Rembrandt van Rijn's The Night Watch. His excitement sparked by these impressions was to play a decisive role in his later stage of creating art. Considerable influence came from two of Xu's teachers in Paris (Pascal Adolphe Dagnan-Bouveret 1852–1929 and Francois Flameng 1856–1923). These two were part of a classical movement that saw a Renaissance-inspired "imitation of nature" as a priority for art education. He studied drawing for two months at the Académie Julian before he was admitted the École Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-arts in Paris. Beijing.

1985.

**Fig.4** Xu Beihong, *Woman*, coal on paper, 32 x 50 cm, 1924, Xu Beihong Museum,

**Fig.5** Xu Beihong, *Wife of the artist*, ink on paper, 36.5 x 27.5 cm, 1943, Xu Beihong collection of drawings, People's Art Press

Due to Xu Beihong's studies at the art academy, he came to the conclusion that drawing is an important element of art education (*»Fig. 4 and 5*).

Before Xu Beihong went to Europe, he already had a clear preconception of the function of painting. He stressed that it is his conviction that a painting had to display "reality" in combination with "beauty." Chinese painting was missing a sense of realistic depiction in particular. Xu was convinced that realistic drawing and its possibilities was an important way to improve Chinese art. However, its incorporation in Chinese art education happened to be quite a task as the method of drawing was unknown to classical Chinese art. His special way of combining Chinese and nineteenth-century Western tradition was a fair attempt to assist in a further development of Chinese art. Xu Beihong's (as he calls it) "weapon:" the method of drawing and the ability of composition have made the art education of traditional Chinese painting measureable and tangible. Drawing was introduced as a new element in Chinese painting, which helped develop a new style in painting: "ink plus drawing" or rather "brush stroke plus composition."

Sketch (素描 *su miao*) is a central task for Xu Beihong, concerning not only his own creative work but also his educational activities. As early as 1926 he described drawing to be "base knowledge" for the art of painting. At a much later stage in 1947 he proclaimed that "the study of art needs drawing as a basis." In 1947 Xu Beihong claimed that he was the first to officially introduce sketch to China.

His claim for decisive improvements, for example for portrait painting, can not only be seen in his own paintings but had some influence on Chinese art in general. He clearly described his demands in his essay on "Method of improving Chinese painting."

As Xu Beihong taught at the National Central University of Nanjing (南京国立 中央大学 1928–1949), drawing was considered the most important course. Students were obliged to go through basic training in drawing for two years. In the third year, they started with Chinese painting in order to practice the introduction form and shape into Chinese painting. He was convinced that it is important to master the shape of four objects: Human beings, animals (two-legged and four-legged likewise), flowers and trees.

This system of education was further refined at Beijing's art school as well as the central academy of art.

In 1931 there was a discussion between Xu Beihong and two of his students in respect to the importance of sketch:

Question: Can there be a development of a deeper understanding of art even without practicing sketch?

Xu: Certainly, there can be. One can practice oil and watercolor painting and other methods in a similar way to sketch. The effect is the same. Not all artists have had practice in sketch.

Question: You certainly stress the importance of sketch and demand up to 1000 sketches – why?

Xu: Sketch is an effective and practical approach to painting. But it is not the only method. Some people claim that copying (临摹 lin mo) is a substitute for drawing nature (写生 xie sheng). That can be a valuable method as well. But this method of copying is not taking nature as the original, and has its limitations. When merely copying, one does not practice being observant. Artists should be able to identify the entire surrounding, should even learn to feel it. One measure of evaluating art is in which magnitude an artist expresses the depth of his feelings.

Question: Some claim sketch hinders ingenuity14. What is your opinion?

Xu: The development of a genius is a long process of diligence and intelligence. Only lazy people think that a genius is born. If there is such a thing as a genius by birth then there is no method to prevent such ingenuity.15

15 与刘汝醴, 顾了然谈素描

刘、顾问:"不习素描,是否可以深入艺术的堂奥?" 徐答:"当然可以。用油画、水彩或其他工具,从事与素描同样的练习,其效果也相等。 不过费事,多一层明暗与色彩的分辨。艺术家,并非全从素描之路走过来的。" 刘、顾问:"先生强调素描,要求同学习作三百至一千幅素描,为什么?

<sup>14</sup> A claim often brought against Xu Beihong.

In contrast to his many passionate speeches and debates, this dialogue reflects his viewpoint in a much more reasonable and rational way.

Xu Beihong's central argument proclaims "improvement of Chinese painting" was a definite product of popular opinion at that time. His theory "Drawing is the basis of all art, as mathematics is the basis of (natural) science" is obviously derived from the "New Culture Movement".

#### Modern China after 1949 and drawing in school

Although Xu Beihong died in 1953, his particular form of realistic depiction inspired by drawing established itself as an important element of painting in China. Xu Beihong's impact for the promotion of realistic depiction has not only had a great influence on Chinese figure painting but also established drawing as mandatory throughout all Chinese art education institutions, regardless of the level taught.

A particularly noteworthy companion of Xu Beihong is Jiang Zhaohe (1904– 1986). He started teaching himself drawing with coal in young years. In 1920 he moved to Shanghai to work as an artist for the advertisement industry and as a designer of clothing. Additionally, he taught himself Western painting. He got to know Xu Beihong in 1927 who helped him become employed at the Central University of Nanjing to be a teacher of design for two years. Around 1935 Jiang developed a special technique of portrait painting with ink, but inspired by Western sketch techniques. This approach is considered rather close to Xu Beihong's idea of the "melting style", but differed noticeably from Xu's techniques. Jiang favored circumcising with lines, followed by dry strokes to be finalized with coloring (*»Fig. 6* ).16

As a result, a new technique of brush movement came about to enable "realistic depiction" with "free-style script." This enhanced the ability of expression within Chinese

刘、顾问:"人言素描足以束缚天才,(当时的反对派都持此论)先生怎么看?" 徐笑答:"天才是长期勤奋得来的智慧累积,只有懒人才相信生而知之。世上如有天才, 岂有束缚天才之具?" (刘汝醴教授整理)原载《美朮文集》,1982年9月南京师范学院美朮

系庆祝建系八十周年特刊

Xu, Beihong 2001, in: Wang, Zhen & Xu, Boyang (eds.). p. 161.

16 Hu 2011, pp. 232–234.

徐答:"素描是学习绘画便捷而有效的好方法,但不是唯一的方法。有人主张以临摹替代 写生,像某些人所做那样,也不失是一种方法。但是这种方法,只看粉本,不师造化,局限 性大,多走弯路,患害实深。…·…临摹家往往认识不到观察世界的重要意义,错误地把 绘事看做只是笔墨'问题。把眼睛和头脑的作用闲却了,故不可取。…·… 艺术家对自 己处身的周围不能没有认识也不能没有感受。艺术的评价标准,是通过艺术家成熟的表 现能力,传达他对生活感受的深度为依据的。"

**Fig.7** Jiang Zhaohe, *Du Fu*, ink on paper, 131 x 90 cm, 1959, Historic Museum China.

**Fig.6** Jiang Zhaohe, *Liu Min Tu* (part), ink and color on paper, 200 x 1202 cm, 1943, The National Art Museum of China.

ink painting. Jiang's ink on rice paper picture shows traditional elements, such as inscriptions and seal, but the treatment of bright- and darkness, shadows and perspective are derived from drawing with pencil (*»Fig. 7*).

Another noteworthy person to mention is Li Hu (1919–1975). Li Hu was a student with Xu Beihong at the National central university of Nanjing. Li attempted to copy oil painting with traditional ink und rice paper, which generated some praise from his teacher Xu.17 At a later stage, he taught at the Central Art Academy of Beijing, where he was also influenced by Jiang Zhaohe. Li Hu's works are considered an expressive style of Chinese paintings, particularly in his composition, application of inscriptions and movement of the brush, but also shows aspects of precise modeling, perspective, light and shadow.

Whereas Xu Beihong and Jiang Zhaohe primarily furthered the integration of Western style realistic depiction of figure painting in the 1930s and 40s, it was, among others, Li Hu who had a strong impact on portrait painting in the 1950s and 60s. He primarily opted for the use of rather lush colors in oil paintings and new techniques for water color paintings (*»Fig. 8*).

#### 286 Xin Hu

Proficiency in drawing nowadays is an integral part of higher education in China, for specialization in oil painting, sculpturing, as well as for the education of Chinese ink painting. For example, at the Central Academy of Fine Arts in Beijing, students in the department for Chinese painting initially spend time with elementary education, including drawing, drawing with lines, followed by copying of landscape and flower and bird paintings, as well as drawing portraits (*»Fig. 9 and 10*) before choosing a specialization for a Bachelor of Arts.18

Nowadays, the development in art and art education in a vast country like China differs considerably. Therefore it is more important than ever, that the academy stresses a solid basic education in preparation for an art degree. Sketch started out 100 years ago to be a part in art education and has gained an integrally important status in Chinese art education.

**Fig.8** Li Hu, *Guan Hanqing*, ink on paper, 85 x 60 cm, 1962, Collection of Li Hu, Huan People's Art Press 2015.

**Fig.9** A Student's work at the Central Academy of Fine Arts (Beijing), pencil on paper, 2010.

**Fig. 10** A Student's work of the Central Academy of Arts with proficiency after twenty lessons, pencil on paper, 1993, private ollection.

**10**

#### Bibliography

Hu, Xin: *Zwischen Tradition und Moderne. Die Reform der künstlerischen Ausbildung in China am Anfang des 20. Jahrhunderts, Kontroversen um die Berücksichtigung westlicher Einflüsse und die Rolle von Xu Beihong,* Marburg 2011.

Liao, Jingwen: *Xu Beihong*, Beijing 1996.


# The *École des Arts du Sénégal* in the 1960s Debating Visual Arts Education Between "Imported Technical Knowledge" and "Traditional Culture Felt from Within"

Judith Rottenburg

This paper explores the contested approaches to visual arts education in Senegal during a moment of profound transition. In the 1960s, when most African countries gained independence from European colonial powers, the artistic expression of renewal became a matter of urgent concern – and controversial discussion. Debates centered around the need to accommodate African art histories and visual traditions while reconsidering the role of European methods in arts education on the African continent. Through its special structure and constellation of people, the art school in the Senegalese capital Dakar came to be the site where these issues manifested themselves most clearly.

When Senegal gained independence from France in 1960, its newly elected first president, the poet and philosopher Léopold Sédar Senghor, put art and culture at the center of nation building and devoted important funding to their development.1 Between 1960 and 1980, his government established a cultural policy that revolved around concepts of national and Pan-African identity and Senghor's vision of a "civilization of the universal," in effect founding a cosmopolitan field of contemporary arts. During the first years of independence, a new infrastructure of cultural institutions was built in the Senegalese capital, including an art school, the *École des Arts du Sénégal*, opened in 1960 as successor of the former *Maison des Arts du Mali*.2 The school served as a platform for the discussion of postcolonial esthetics and as a center

1 Harney 1996, p. 43.

2 Harney 2004, p. 56.

of artistic production. Within the institution, two departments of visual arts offered opposing pedagogical approaches: one focusing on technical training, considered either as European or as universal, and one based on the idea of a purposeful lack of technical training to encourage an intuitive and spontaneous expression of a supposed authentic African art. These two pedagogical approaches mirrored the two schools of thought dominating arts education on the African continent in dialog with European and American art teachers throughout the twentieth century.3 Their coexistence within the *École des Arts du Sénégal* in Dakar was a unique constellation, making it a striking case study.

The curriculum of the so-called academic department of visual art (*Arts plastiques*) offered drawing from life and plaster models, still life drawing, composition, graphic art, anatomy, perspective, painting, sculpture, general knowledge as well as African and Western history of art.4 The Senegalese artist Iba N'Diaye (1928–2008) was appointed its director in 1960. He had studied painting and architecture in Paris and agreed to come back to Senegal at the moment of independence to teach at the art school in Dakar.

The second department of the school was called "Research in African Art" (*Recherche plastique nègre*). It advocated an idea of a specific African approach to art, focusing on research in African visual traditions. This department's curriculum only offered two courses: oil painting and artistic sketching.5 The Senegalese artist Papa Ibra Tall (1935– 2015) became its first director in 1960. After he started to set up a tapestry workshop within the department in 1963 and in 1965 became head of the newly founded *Manufacture nationale de tapisserie* in Thiès, about 70 kilometers east of Dakar, the French mathematician and amateur painter Pierre Lods (1921–1988) gradually took over the lead of the department. Lods followed his own ideal of a *laissez-faire* approach that he had developed in Brazzaville in the former French Congo as teacher and founder of the *Poto-Poto School of Painting*. He considered European teaching methods an obstruction to the promotion of a supposedly authentic African art, a perspective he shared with other European art instructors on the African continent. Prominent examples are Pierre Romain Desfossé who opened *Le Hangar* in Lubumbashi, Congo, in 1944, or Uli and Georgina Beier who started their art education in Oshogbo, Nigeria, in 1961.

The early history of the *École des Arts du Sénégal* in Dakar has been told as a tale of two departments opposing their respective teaching methods, personified by Iba N'Diaye as head of the academic department, and Papa Ibra Tall and Pierre Lods as heads of the department devoted to "Research in African Art."6 I argue that this assumed dichotomy was not in fact the case by differentiating between Lods' and Tall's

<sup>3</sup> See, for example, Gaudibert 1991, pp. 40–42; Harney 2004, pp. 66–68.

<sup>4</sup> Sy, Kalidou: *The School of Fine Arts of Senegal*, in: Axt/Sy 1989, pp. 35–39, 35–36.

<sup>5</sup> Sy, Kalidou: *The School of Fine Arts of Senegal*, in: Axt/Sy 1989, pp. 35–39, 36.

<sup>6</sup> This opposition can be found, for example, in Axt/Sy 1989; Harney 2004; Grabski 2006 and 2013; Collection Bassam Chaïtou 2007.

**Fig. 1** Pierre Lods with some artists in Poto-Poto (in: Odita 1978, p. 63).

approaches. A closer look at Tall's position reveals him as a third figure who breaks this binary and the inherent assumption that technical training was linked to Europe and its traditions of naturalistic representation, while African art, imagined as non-naturalistic, required purposeful rejection of technical training.

In the following, I will first present Pierre Lods and Iba N'Diaye as emblematic figures for their respective teaching methods, and then discuss Papa Ibra Tall's approach. Lods, N'Diaye, and Tall were not the only teachers at the art school in Dakar, but as heads of the departments they occupied particularly important positions in the first six years of the institution that are in the focus of this paper. In 1966, the first generation of students of the Dakar art school showed their work in the contemporary African arts exhibition *Tendances et confrontations*. This exhibition took place on the occasion of the *First World Festival of Negro Arts* in Dakar and was attended by an international public. Following the festival, the setting of the *École des Arts du Sénégal* changed significantly. Iba N'Diaye decided to return to Paris while Tall became head of the *Manufacture nationale de tapisserie* in Thiès. Only Pierre Lods remained as a key figure in visual arts education in Dakar until his death in 1988. He had a considerable influence on the way art education and the role of the artist was conceived in Dakar.7 Pierre Lods' self-promotion as a teacher guided by "silence and respect"8 towards his students can be discerned from a photographic representation of a teaching unit in the 1950s (*»Fig. 1*). The photograph taken at the Poto-Poto school in Brazzaville depicts Pierre Lods and a group of young artists. Though we do not know the exact circumstances in which this photograph was taken, there is no doubt that its carefully constructed composition is supposed to tell us about the visual art education at Poto-Poto,

7 Grabski 2017, p. 138.

8 Lods 1959, p. 355.

about the students, the teacher and most importantly about their relation to each other.

In the lower two thirds of the photograph, we see five young men and their drawing materials – white sheets of paper, pens and little glasses of ink. They are sitting together in a crowded row at a table, where they are busy drawing and focusing on their sheets. In the upper third of the photograph, we see Pierre Lods, the founder and only teacher of the school, and beside him, there are three wooden masks and a hat. A triangle formation becomes apparent within the photograph's composition: the students' faces form the lower side of this triangle; the two wooden masks positioned slightly below Lods' face on its right and left side provide a middle layer; and Pierre Lods' face constitutes the peak of this formation. He is positioned in the center, behind the student sitting in the middle of the row. Standing behind his students, Pierre Lods assumes the paternalistic position of teacher, mentor and protector. He is bending downward slightly and attentively observing the students' working progress. Pierre Lods poses as a silent observer who apparently does not interfere – he neither comments nor enters his students' field of vision. It is striking that the students do not seem to say a word either. This class is held in silence. Everyone's attention is geared toward the emerging drawings: while the attention of the viewer is attracted toward Pierre Lods, his eyes redirect the attention toward his students, and their eyes are focused on their drawings. None of the students raises his eyes. This drawing lesson is not presented as a lesson in watching, observing, measuring an object from a distance and rendering it on paper while constantly re-looking at it. The students do not seem to actually have any object or model in front of them. Rather, they seem absorbed in introspection as if drawing from their own imagination, to create something independent of the world surrounding them.

Pierre Lods believed to face "a population where everyone is an artist"9 and considered drawing instructions therefore not necessary or even harmful, as he reported in 1959 at the *Second Congress of Black Writers and Artists* in Rome.

Thanks to this prodigious and incredible assembly of spontaneous talents, I was able to make a specific choice and only keep the painters who showed straight away all the natural qualities of *drawing, composition, harmony* and *imagination*.10

He described his teaching method as a *laissez-faire* approach, saying that to narrow his interventions down to a minimum is

<sup>9</sup> Lods 1959, p. 358.

<sup>10</sup> Lods 1959, p. 357. The French text reads: "Grace à ce prodigieux et incroyable rassemblement de talents spontanés, je pus faire un choix précis et ne conserver que les peintres qui montrèrent,

[…] to sustain the internal tension of the artists, to encourage them or free them of their doubts, to distribute their material to them and give them the essential indications about the use of colours, brushes and medium, paper or canvas.11

While Lods himself did not recognize the important part he played in the construction of a supposedly authentic African art, he obviously did influence his students in many ways. The decoration of the classroom with wooden masks was only one example, as Lods himself explained,

To nourish the inspiration of the painters, I surrounded them with traditional African objects, with a great variety of plants in the gardens, and I organized festivals. Sometimes we read African legends, proverbs or poems which seemed to me to correspond with the Negro world, or share the same values (Senghor, Césaire, Saint-John Perse, Michaud, Prévert…).12

It is remarkable that the masks presented in this photograph are positioned behind the students, as a background. Moreover, their display can remind us of European ethnographic collections as they are stripped of their constitutive trappings and decontextualized from the masquerade, dancing and singing that provide their meaning in their original contexts. Within the context depicted by the photograph, the masks acquire different meanings. They stand for an unspecified Africanness and are enacted as art objects. While Lods presented the teaching at Poto-Poto as a mere *laissez-faire*, the school was obviously built on a European's idea of African art and his expectations toward the production of his students.

When Senegal gained independence in 1960, it was Senghor's wish that Lods would contribute his experience from Poto-Poto to the newly founded art school in Dakar and help shape the emergent post-independence art scene of the country. Senghor and Lods had first met in 1959 at the Second Congress of Black Writers and Artists in Rome, and Senghor had remained deeply impressed by the French teacher's account of his teaching methods. Lods accepted the invitation and moved to Dakar in 1961,

tout à coup, toutes les qualités naturelles de *dessin*, de *composition*, d'*harmonie* et d'*imagination* […]" (Lods 1959a, p. 328).


ten years after he had founded the Poto-Poto School of Painting. In Dakar, he started to teach with Papa Ibra Tall in the department for "Research in African Art." When Tall was appointed director of the *Manufacture nationale de tapisserie* in Thiès in 1965, Lods became the head of the department. In addition, he opened an *atelier libre*, a free studio at his home in Dakar that functioned very much like the Poto-Poto school. In a photograph taken in Dakar around 1975 (*»Fig. 2*), we can again see Pierre Lods standing behind his students and their works, conveying the same attitude of restraint we already saw in the Poto-Poto photograph from the 1950s. While the students seem to be in the midst of a discussion, sitting between a painting by Amadou Seck on the right and one by Ousmane Faye on the left, Pierre Lods is again posing as a silent observer. His hands crossed behind his back, he signals that he will not intervene. Convinced that his students find their subjects through introspection and have already incorporated the "natural qualities of *drawing, composition, harmony* and *imagination*"13 before they come to art school, the role of the teacher only consists of providing them with material and encouraging them to explore a talent that according to Pierre Lods they have by birth and origin.

Lods' belief that his students were equipped with an innate talent for spontaneous artistic expression can bring to mind the anti-academic principles of the *Kunsterziehungsbewegung* (Art Education Movement) in Europe during the first decades of the twentieth century.14 This movement of education through the arts evolved in the context of the *Reformpädagogik* (Progressive Education) and introduced an anti-academic drawing education based on spontaneous expression. Children's drawings were appreciated for their originality and authenticity, values that were considered to be lost in an increasingly industrialized world and a feeling of alienation associated therewith. Pierre Lods' search for authentic African art was also informed by discourses of alienation, and in his art teaching, similar notions of innate artistic ingenuity were intertwined with essentialist ideas of African authenticity. As the exchange between Pierre Lods and Léopold Sédar Senghor demonstrates, this idea of authentic African art in turn connected the European art patron with the Negritude writers. Their idea of authentic Africanity equally needs to be understood in the context of modernist alienation discourses as can be found in surrealism, as Hans-Jürgen Heinrichs points out.15

Iba N'Diaye, the emblematic figure of the *Arts plastiques* department of the School, vehemently rejected any essentialist assumptions about African artists, as he elaborated in a statement in 1979:

15 Heinrichs 1998, p. 122.

<sup>13</sup> Lods 1959, p. 357.

<sup>14</sup> Joanna Grabski more generally points out that art making at Lods' department "engaged with a cluster of modernist notions about creativity, spontaneity, freedom of expression, and artistic intuition" (Grabski 2013, p. 280).

**Fig.2** Pierre Lods and his students in Dakar, ca. 1975 (in: Fall/Pivin 2001, pp. 236–237).

We are not born more talented than others, most of us do not come from traditional artist families where the profession was transmitted from one generation to the next, but we are sons of African cities which were created, for the most part, in the colonial era, and were crucibles of an original culture, in which, according to the country, foreign or indigenous cultural contributions dominate.16

By emphasizing the transcultural entanglements that shaped the urban contexts both in colonial and postcolonial conditions, N'Diaye expressed a standpoint opposed to Lods who continuously tried to maintain an essential difference between African and European contexts, people, and their supposedly authentic art forms. While Lods tried to shield the students from any art historical references other than African masks and sculptures, N'Diaye encouraged them to expose themselves to all kinds of external influences, acquainting them with both Western and African art history:

[…] while I was teaching, I introduced an art history course using slides so that the students could become familiar with artists from all over the world – including those who were profoundly influenced by African art – and their

16 N'Diaye, Iba: À propos des arts plastiques, quoted in: Huchard 1994, p. 49: "Nous ne sommes pas nés plus doués que les autres, la plupart entre nous ne sont pas issus de familles d'artistes traditionnels, au seins desquelles le métier se transmettait de génération en génération, mais sont fils des villes africaines, créées pour la plupart à l'époque coloniale, creuset d'une culture originale, dans laquelle, suivant les pays, dominent les apports étrangers ou autochtones." English translation: Harney 2004, p. 63.

techniques and artistic careers. In my opinion, this was an indispensable step in educating the eye. But the art schools of other African countries, which were often run by French and Belgian educators, and even my colleagues at the *École des Arts in Senegal* offered an education that was the opposite of what I proposed. These teachers claimed that my program, by putting African arts and European arts on the same level, led to the devaluation of the former. In a word, I was "Europeanizing" the students. I was the European and they were the Africans!17

N'Diaye advised his younger colleagues to acquire a mastery of techniques "which alone will permit us to overtake the period of infantile imagery […] and to give us the courage to advance the iconographic themes of contemporary Africa."18 N'Diaye himself had acquired these tools that according to him "only Europe seemed to provide."19 He remembered that as a student he "was in Europe to learn a craft, and most of all, to learn to draw,"20 explaining his particular emphasis on drawing education as follows:

Drawing, for me, is the foundation of all work, the means of acquiring the necessary tools, without which nothing holds up. An artist who does not learn to draw – that's as absurd as a writer who refuses to read on the pretext of finding his own style. […] You can't achieve quality without apprenticeship.21

Therefore, as a professor at the *École des Arts du Sénégal*, Iba N'Diaye provided his students with technical training, teaching them naturalistic representation, the rules of


**Fig.3** Xu Beihong, *Woman*, coal on paper, 32 x 50 cm, 1924, Xu Beihong Museum, Beijing.

**Fig.4** Iba N'Diaye, Étude d'après un masque de course dan, 1982, ink on paper (in: Huchard 1994, p. 48).

**Fig.5** Iba N'Diaye, Croquis d'après une statue ibo, 1980, ink on paper (in: Huchard 1994, p. 48).

perspective and the principles of proportion. They learned to draw from live and plaster models. In the beginning, N'Diaye sometimes held his course in a café in downtown Dakar and asked his students to sketch the passersby.22 By teaching them to draw in the streets of Dakar, he invited his students to find their subjects in the urban context and the society surrounding them, whereas Pierre Lods in the other department promoted an artistic practice that focused on introspection and the imagination or visualization of legends and myths. This important contrast between N'Diaye's and Lods' teaching methods can be further evidenced by the role they respectively attributed to African masks and statues for contemporary artistic practices in Africa.

Iba N'Diaye dealt with the subject of African masks and statues throughout his artistic career. While he remembered his journeys to the Dogon country in Mali as formative experiences, he highlighted above all the importance of studying African art in ethnographic museums. N'Diaye, who worked for many years at the *Musée de l'Homme* in Paris in the Africa department headed at the time by his wife Francine N'Diaye, produced numerous drawings of African masks and statues (*»Fig. 3–5*). These drawings show isolated objects almost in the manner of documentation. Through drawing techniques that are typical of the European academic context, such as the use of cross-hatching as a method for modeling volume through shading, N'Diaye evokes the three-dimensionality of the objects on the surface of the paper. He never considered the African art objects a model to follow in his own artistic practice but rather a motif whose volumes, lines and shapes he studied.

As concerns any formal relationship that might exist between my production and the plastic arts of the African continent, I have not looked for them systematically. I studied African sculpture by drawing in museums, just as I did for Antique, Roman or Gothic sculptures…or European painting. I never borrowed directly, and even if certain forms of African sculpture are frequent in my sketches, this was because they offered solutions to problems in representing volume in space, proportions, and important formal details.23

N'Diaye's analytical distance from the objects he renders is the essential difference with Pierre Lods' conception of the role masks and statues should play for contemporary African artists. While N'Diaye represented them with an almost scientific interest, Pierre Lods encouraged his students to enter into a vital connection with the African art objects. In contrast to N'Diaye, Lods considered it necessary to imagine modern art in Africa in a relation of continuity to so-called traditional African art. Accordingly, Lods' students in their paintings and drawings would not represent African art objects but rather use them as examples, as we can see in the paintings by Amadou Seck and Ousmane Faye (*»Fig. 2*) as well as in a later ink drawing by Amadou Seck (*»Fig. 6*). The flatness of their productions stands in sharp contrast to the illusion of threedimensionality in N'Diaye's drawings. It presumably relates to the absence of training in naturalistic representation and rules of perspective in Pierre Lods' art teaching, as well as to the aspiration to participate as painters in the spirit of African sculptures that Lods encouraged.

Papa Ibra Tall was the third key figure at the *École des Arts du Sénégal* during the first years of the institution. Having been trained in the 1950s in Paris as an architect and having gained insights into painting, serigraphy, tapestry, mosaics and pedagogy24, Tall returned to Senegal in 1960 and was appointed the first director of the department "Research in African Art." His approach to visual art education is commonly lumped together with that of Pierre Lods. Joanna Grabski asserts that "Papa Ibra Tall and Pierre Lods shared a common vision about the training of artists as well as what would constitute modern Senegalese art," even if she notes that "their perspectives

<sup>23</sup> Musée de l'Echevinage 1986, p. 21. Translation by the author. The French text reads: "Quant aux rapports formels qui peuvent exister entre ma production et les arts plastiques du continent africain, je ne les ai pas recherchés de façon systématique. J'ai étudié la sculpture africaine en la dessinant dans les musées ainsi que je l'ai fait pour les sculptures antique, romane, gothique... ou la peinture européenne. Je n'ai jamais fait d'emprunts directs et si certaines formes de la plastique africaine sont fréquentes dans mes études graphiques, c'est parce qu'elles m'offraient une solution au problème du rendu du volume dans l'espace, des proportions et des détails formels signifiants."

<sup>24</sup> Harney 2004, p. 56.

**Fig.6** Amadou Seck, *Prinz Lat Soukabé***,**  1982, 65 x 50 cm, ink on paper, Sammlung - Bildende Kunst aus Afrika (Schenkung Dr. Helke Kammerer-Grothaus), Carl-von-Ossietzky-Universität Oldenburg, Seminar für Kunst und Medien (IBIT der Carl von Ossietzky Universität Oldenburg).

were informed by distinctive experiences."25 Elizabeth Harney states more generally that "one can […] draw parallels between Tall's beliefs in African artistic expressivity and those espoused by European art mentors and teachers working in other parts of the African continent."26 However, Tall explicitly distanced himself from Pierre Lods' teaching methods and vision for contemporary African art. When Tall gave a talk at a conference in Dakar in 1972 and reported about the current developments in fine arts in Senegal, he likewise criticized N'Diaye's and Lods' approach to visual arts education.

In terms of training, two main theories are opposed: that of the *École des Beaux-Arts* copied from the European model, and that of the *ateliers "libres"*. Of course, each one of these theories has its weaknesses.27

Tall was against education based on European models and its principles of naturalistic representation for artists in postcolonial Africa. As Elizabeth Harney quotes from an interview, "he sought to deemphasize the impact of Western education on Senegalese artists, claiming that 'when one leaves the European schools of fine arts, one spends the next ten years of life trying to undo these learned habits…. One has to do exactly the opposite of classical education.'"28 Tall considered the use of European teaching methods an act of assimilation that imposed European art by pretending that it was universal:


The proponents of the "European School," with the pretext of the universality of European masterpieces, import both the content and the organization of Western teaching. They even impose the drawing of classical plasters.29

However, Tall did not see the promotion of an assumedly "authentic" African art that deliberately rejects any form of technical instruction as an alternative to a European *Beaux Arts* education. He considered a *laissez-faire* approach even more inadequate, "The gap in the doctrine which reduces the artist to automatisms is, from a pedagogical standpoint, the greatest threat to the future of our plastic arts."30

Tall criticized the fact that the *ateliers libres* were led by Europeans and shaped by European ideas of African art.

[…] the masters of these *ateliers*, by their omnipotence and sheltered from any type of control, influence the work of the artists they train much more than they would care to recognize. It is worth noting further that these promoters are Westerners, and think like Westerners, and despite their protests against the Western school, nonetheless propose a Western approach.31

According to Tall, the artistic practice of the *ateliers libres* responded to neocolonial expectations of an authentic, naïf or primitivist art coming from Africa: "The promoters of these gatherings have their own idea of African art that they wish to perpetuate against the current of History."32 Tall deplored that the students who attended the *ateliers libres* were "artificially distanced from external artistic currents, maintained in an


<sup>29</sup> Tall 1972, p. 108. Translation by the author. The French text reads: "Les tenants de 'l'école européenne' importent, sous le prétexte de l'universalité des chefs d'œuvre d'Europe, le contenu de l'enseignement occidental en même temps que son organisation. Ils vont jusqu'à imposer le dessin de plâtres classiques."

<sup>30</sup> Tall 1972, p. 108. Translation by the author. The French text reads: "la lacune doctrinale qui réduit l'artiste à des automatismes est, au niveau de la formation, le plus grave des dangers qui menacent l'avenir de nos Arts plastiques."

embryonic state vulnerable to the slightest threat."33 According to Tall, these students became "young people incapable of creating should their master be absent".34

Disagreeing with both Iba N'Diaye and Pierre Lods, Tall opted for a third way. He refused to understand their approaches as mutually exclusive options, envisioning them rather as two poles of a productive field of tension within which contemporary artistic practices in postcolonial Africa could develop. Tall's views on the debate that opposed N'Diaye's and Lods' teaching methods amount to a criticism of its premises, namely that this debate located skills, knowledge and technical training in the European academic system and linked it to traditional European principles of naturalistic representation while assuming that African arts, imagined as non-naturalistic, would unfold without any training and mastery of techniques. In this debate, it was impossible to imagine an African art not conditioned by primitivist ideas. Papa Ibra Tall agreed with Pierre Lods on the importance of African traditions of non-naturalistic arts, which he deemed essential to cultivating a modern art practice in Africa. However, in contrast to Lods, Tall did not believe this to be the result of innate talent with no requirement of technical training. On the contrary, he attached great importance to technical skills and understood art in Africa, like art in Europe, to be an activity that needed to be learned, developed, and understood. Tall disconnected the assumed relation between a non-naturalistic relation of the arts to reality and the idea of a naïve unspoiled African artist. He aimed at overcoming the primitivist assumption of the self-taught African artist who spontaneously follows his or her intuition. In his talk in Dakar in 1972, Tall came to the conclusion that "[i]n summary, training an artist is teaching a technique and a foundational culture combined with a deep knowledge of cultural heritage and of foreign realities."35

On the one hand, Tall agreed with Iba N'Diaye on the importance of technical skills as well as general and art historical knowledge about both Africa and the rest of the world, considering them necessary conditions for any artist. On the other hand, Tall refused to adopt European methods of art education as universal. He shared Pierre Lods' belief in specific characteristics of African art and the vision that contemporary African artists should draw from African art histories. As head of the *Manufacture nationale de tapisserie* in Thiès, Papa Ibra Tall placed particular emphasis on sustaining

<sup>33</sup> Tall 1972, p. 109. Translation by the author. The French text reads: "Ils sont, artificiellement, tenus à l'écart des événements artistiques de l'extérieur, et maintenus dans un état larvaire que tout souffle menace."

<sup>34</sup> Tall 1972, p. 109. Translation by the author. The French text reads: "des jeunes gens incapables de produire dès que le pilier s'absente."

<sup>35</sup> Tall 1972, p. 109. Translation by the author. The French text reads: "En somme, former un artiste, c'est donner une technique et une culture de base alliant une connaissance approfondie de l'héritage culturel et une large information sur les réalités du dehors."

the applied arts in Africa, claiming that the distinction between fine art and applied or decorative art was foreign to African contexts.36

Tall's own artistic work – which was exemplary for many young Senegalese artists at the time – translated his vision of contemporary art and art education in postcolonial Africa. Tall was himself a skilled draftsman who was best known for his monumental tapestries, which were based on meticulous drawings of complex geometrical constructions oscillating between figuration and abstraction (*»Fig. 7*). While dealing with legends, myths, and religious topics he encountered in Senegal, as well as with planetary and cosmic subjects such as nature, life or death, Tall drew techniques, materials and art historical references from diverse times and places. He did not consider this approach a threat to African art but precisely the future of an African art that neither imitated Western art nor shut itself off from external influences. In this way, artists could transcend neocolonial ideas of unspoiled Africanness. Both as an artist and as an art teacher, Papa Ibra Tall developed ways to overcome what Aimé Césaire described in 1966 as a double dilemma of imitation that he believed African artists were facing during the post-independence era. According to Césaire, both African artists "who try to copy European art works or apply European canons" and those who set out to "mechanically repeat ancestral motifs" could not but fail.37

Senghor agreed with Césaire on the necessity of encouraging African artists to pursue their artistic practices beyond essentialist binaries. While Senghor strongly supported the installation of two distinct departments of visual art within the Dakar art school, he did not conceive them as competing alternatives. As becomes clear in a statement Senghor gave in 1966 at the inauguration of the *Manufacture nationale de tapisserie* in Thiès, the purpose of the installation of two distinct departments of visual art revolved around the entanglements and mutual impregnations that would emerge between them. Quoting the minister of Cultural Affairs, Senghor phrased the vision of "a new art for a new nation" in Senegal as "achieving the miracle of the harmonious blending of imported technical knowledge and traditional culture felt from within."38 While in Senghor's explanations this idea remained a theoretical construction, Papa Ibra Tall developed ways to imagine and design such "harmonious blending" in his monumental tapestries.

As a synthesis between Iba N'Diaye's and Pierre Lods' approaches, Tall's position allows us to move beyond the entrenched interpretation of the two departments as mutually exclusive alternatives, and to explore the important artistic developments between these poles. Highlighting Tall's role within visual art education in Senegal in the 1960s illuminates the inherent ambivalences of both approaches and opens new

<sup>36</sup> Tall 1972, p. 110.

<sup>37</sup> Césaire 2009, p. 212. Translation by the author.

<sup>38</sup> Senghor 1977, p. 103. Translation by the author. The French text reads: "de réaliser le miracle de la combinaison harmonieuse des connaissances techniques importées et de la culture traditionnelle sentie du dedans."

**Fig.7** Papa Ibra Tall, *Maternité*, 1960, drawing on paper (*Le Soleil*, 8 February 1980).

ways to interpret the artistic production of the first generation of artists who studied at the *École des Arts du Sénégal*. Instead of subordinating their works to the program of the department they were officially part of, their works should be understood within the broader context out of which they evolved. Regardless of the department these students belonged to, they were all necessarily exposed to the plurality of teaching methods and schools of thought that characterized the Dakar art school during their formative years. They accomplished their studies within a field of tension between *Beaux Arts* and *laissez faire*, between intuition and technical knowledge, between African and European art histories, and in the middle of the cosmopolitan city that was Dakar in the 1960s.

#### Bibliography


# Art Education in Twentieth Century Syria<sup>1</sup>

Charlotte Bank

When the Syrian-German painter Marwan (1934–2016) told his father in the early 1950s that he intended to become an artist, the latter suggested he study architecture instead; this was also a "creative" profession, but one with somewhat better prospects for actually earning a living was his argument.2 But Marwan's mind was set and he began to take private lessons in painting and drawing, moving to Berlin in 1957 to pursue further studies and subsequently became a successful painter and art professor in his new home. Marwan's father's worries are hardly unique to Syria; parents in every country often worry about their children's choice to study art. And yet, art had been a viable career in Syria since the French mandate authorities established the *Institut français d'archéologie et d'art musulman* in 1922 in Damascus, and initiated programs to train artisans and artists and included drawing classes in school curricula. These classes might be seen as the first attempts at an institutionalized art education in Syria, but it was only in 1959 that a genuine art academy was established. Until then, private tuition remained an important pillar of artistic training.

In the Arab world, the interest in studying and practicing drawing and painting in the European modality is closely linked to the concept of modernity. During the latter part of the nineteenth century, a general feeling of despair grew among intellectuals: faced with the challenges of European colonial expansion, the Arab and Muslim world, it was felt, would need to cast away redundant cultural habits and work to "catch up" with the modern achievements of Europe. For the intellectual elite, the practice and appreciation of fine art was an essential part of this idea of modernity.3 It became common to decorate the formal rooms of homes with paintings and frescoes instead


of traditional ornamentation.4 But while visiting artists were seen working and works of art were found in the cities of the Arab provinces of the Ottoman Empire, a young person who wanted to pursue studies in fine art was mostly forced to travel, to Istanbul or the European capitals. More opportunities were opened after the fall of the Ottoman Empire and even more came with national independence, but, with the exception of Cairo, where the art academy was established in 1908, it was not until well into the twentieth century that other cities got their professional art schools: Beirut in 1937, Baghdad in 1941 and, as mentioned, Damascus as late as 1959.

In what follows, I will attempt to trace the development of art education in Syria from the early days of modern art practice up until the early period after the establishment of the *Institute of Plastic Art* in Damascus. A researcher could hardly choose a more challenging task. Not only are sources scarce and often ambiguous but what is available can prove frustratingly inaccurate, often fragmented and largely anecdotal. Literature sometimes provides different dates for the same events, details as to which artists participated in which activities can be lacking and, often, sources are not cited.5 And the ongoing conflict in the country makes field research at present impossible, something that would be sorely needed in order to close some significant gaps in our knowledge. At present, one can only hope that this will be possible in the near future.

Since artistic training and practice never happens outside the social and political contexts it is located within, I will relate the question of art education in Syria to the political frame within which artists and educators had to navigate, whether under colonial rule (Ottoman and French) or since Syria became an independent state.

#### Oil painting and the quest for modernity

Faced with the political and cultural threats of an aggressive European expansion and its accompanying attacks on Muslim thought and social organization, an intellectual movement began to grow in the Arab and Muslim world during the nineteenth century that was intent on making their societies fit to compete with Europe. In Egypt, Rifa'a al-Tahtawi (1801–1873), who served under the reformist Khedive Muhammad Ali (1769–1849), passionately advocated modern scientific education as a prerequisite for a society that is prosperous and just.6 For Islamic reformist thinkers like Jamal al-Din al-Afghani (1839–1897) and Muhammad 'Abduh (1845–1905), the need to respond to European critics like Ernest Renan (1823–1892) and their arguments that Islam was


per se hostile to reason led to attempts at developing an Islamic modernism that accommodated the pursuit of rational knowledge and reforms in the social sphere, thereby drawing on both European rationalism and pre-modern Islamic reform movements. The underlying feeling of the writings of these thinkers and their heirs was that the Arab and Muslim world had regressed and needed to overcome what was perceived as social and cultural backwardness and to cast away archaic mores. In this way, the Arab world would achieve modernity and be ready to face the Western threat. In the cultural realm, new literary and musical forms were introduced as indexes of modernity, and also the appreciation and practice of fine art in the European modality was ascribed this enculturing role.7

For would-be artists in the Arabic-speaking provinces of the Ottoman Empire there were only limited choices when seeking training. Some artists studied with European artists who were living and working in the region, but mostly, training was sought far from the artists' homes, in Europe or in Istanbul.8 Oil painting and drawing technique were taught in Ottoman military elementary and secondary schools since the nineteenth century, although mainly for military purposes.9

The first generations of Arab artists who began to practice European style oil painting is often referred to as *ruwwad* ("pioneers"), a somewhat misleading term as it somehow implies the non-existence of any prior visual artistic practice. Yet, traditions of two-dimensional, figurative imagery did exist prior to the advent of European-style painting. In the case of Syria, Wijdan Ali mentions "wall painting" by which she means painting on wooden panels, painted ceramic tiles with depictions of the holy cities and floral and geometric designs, Christian icons, painting on glass, and painting on textiles. 10 These traditions appear not to have been seen as artistic precedents of any influence by the first generation of painters.11

The concept of "art" (*fann* in Arabic) became increasingly defined as art in the European sense, i.e. an academic practice applying a stylistic language taught at European art academies. The traditional practices, hitherto referred to as *fann*, lost their importance and became known as *al-fann al-islami* ("Islamic art"), just as they were generally known in Europe.12

One of the first Syrian artists to pursue fine art as a career was Tawfiq Tarek13 (1875–1940), who after initial studies in Istanbul was forced to leave the city after hav-


ing been briefly imprisoned for his political activities. He subsequently studied drawing, land surveying and urbanism at the Ecole des Beaux Arts in Paris, from where he graduated in 1901 and returned to Damascus.14 Tarek remained faithful to his academic training throughout his career as an artist, using his skills at realist painting to address issues of social and political concern.15 His younger colleagues Abdulwahab Abu al-Saoud (1897–1951) and Michel Kurché received their artistic training in Beirut and Cairo or Paris, in the case of Abu al-Saoud, who also worked as a writer and actor, through somewhat informal means.16 Kurché received his education at the Ecole des Beaux Arts in Paris. While Abu al-Saoud painted in a realist style and, like Tawfiq Tarek, produced a large number of works celebrating important moments of Arab history, Kurché is known as an "impressionist" painter. This term is widely used for a broad range of works by Arab *ruwwad* painters. It does not, however, include the optical scientific and avant-garde aspects of French Impressionism, but should be seen as referring to light-suffused renderings of fleeting scenes and landscapes.17

The early artists were enabled to study in Europe by their affluent backgrounds. No state structures existed in the Ottoman Empire that could have assisted young artists wanting to pursue studies abroad. And neither did the French mandate authorities show much interest in aiding young Arabs who showed an interest in modern art, despite the considerable educational reforms they undertook in other realms. Thereby, several Syrian artists had successfully completed their studies in France and upon their return to their home country applied their knowledge as artists and teachers.

#### Private versus state under the French Mandate

Following the fall of the Ottoman Empire after the First World War, Syria came under French rule in 1920 after a brief period of independence as the Arab Kingdom of Syria. Under French rule, a tentative institutionalization of the art scene was begun, although private initiatives remained the driving forces in expanding the place for modern art in Syria.

While the pursuit of fine art was clearly not among the priorities of the Mandate authorities, they did create the *Institut français d'archéologie et d'art musulman* in 1922. Located in the Damascene 'Azm Palace, the aim of this institution was to create a centre that incorporated a museum and a library, and where exhibitions, lectures and courses

16 Lenssen 2014, p. 20.

<sup>14</sup> Qashlan 2006, p. 18.

<sup>15</sup> See Bank 2016 for a discussion of this artist and the critique inherent in his work.

<sup>17</sup> For a discussion of the term "impressionist" in relation to Ottoman painters, see Shaw 2011, p. 181.

were organized. It also served as host to visiting artists and scholars.18 The *École des arts décoratifs* was a part of the institute and offered courses on traditional handicraft, including drawing as well as courses on techniques such as wood and stucco sculpting, glass work, ceramic and different textile working techniques.19 The stress on traditional arts and handicraft as opposed to modern fine art is explained by an idea that was common among the French authorities according to which these constituted the "authentic" artistic expression of the country, but had fallen into a state of stagnation and now needed to be brought back to its former "pureness and refinement." The students for these classes were carefully selected and recruited with the aim of forming a local elite, and the teachers were recruited from among the "skilled workers of the city."20 The school seems to have changed its name several times and gone through different stages of re-organization. It continued its work (although with a fluctuating level of activity) until 1930, when it was closed amid accusations of fraud and antiquities trafficking against its director, Eustache de Lorey.21

While the activities of the French institute served the goal of creating a favorable image of the French among the local populations, and its program did not include any direct support for Syrians wishing to study modern painting, the institute does seem to have functioned as a kind of catalyst for the art scene in Damascus, albeit through more indirect means. During the mandate, the school system was expanded and thus, artists found new opportunities for work, as art and art history formed part of the French education curriculum.22 Furthermore, visits from French and other European painters also appear to have been inspirational for the local art scene.23

While the living conditions of artists certainly improved with the establishment of various teaching positions, there remained a lack of exhibition infrastructure and a similar lack of institutional frameworks for education in modern art for which private initiatives sought to compensate to some extent. Among the elites, engagement with fine art was encouraged as a meaningful action and was regarded as a means to improve societal conditions. Thus, members of the Muslim Scouts were called upon to attend exhibition openings and appreciate the works exhibited.24 The Scouts also appear to have occasionally organized exhibitions themselves. Kirsten Scheid mentions a celebratory exhibition organized in Beirut in 1927 upon the return of the Lebanese painter and Scout troop member Moustapha Farroukh from his studies abroad.25 However, any similar exhibitions in Damascus are not known to me.


<sup>18</sup> Avez 1993, p. 23. The name of the palace is generally transcribed as "Azem" in French literature.

When it comes to exhibition activities during this early period, information is in general disappointingly limited. Wijdan Ali mentions that pioneering artists gathered in small groups to hold sporadic exhibitions and that these were encouraged by foreign missions and embassies. The first group show in Syria appears to have taken place in 1928 as part of the *Exhibition of Ancient and Modern Crafts* and the second one during the Damascus Fair of 1936. Unfortunately, no information about the participating artists remains.26 Thereby, artists had a central role in organizing these activities. Mamdouh Qashlan mentions that Tawfiq Tarek started an art association called *The Fine Arts Club* with a group of artists from different fields in the 1930's, but does not provide much detail on the activities of the association.27

The artist and art historian Elias Zayat mentions exhibitions organized by artists who had studied in Europe and Egypt and had returned to Syria to teach. One such exhibition seems to have taken place in 1940 at the Faculty of Law of the Syrian University, with a second following in 1944 at the *Al-hurriyyah Institute*, and a third at the *First Preparatory School* in Damascus. But Zayat does not provide much further information on these events, writing that the sources available for them provide very few details.28 A more structured initiative with an ongoing program of activities was the *Studio Veronese*. Established in 1941 by a small group of artists as a new venue for debates and presentations of art, the group organized painting sessions with live models as well as meetings and discussions focused on various issues related to art, philosophy and modernism.29 Although started with the sole motive to promote modern art, over time the Studio became more involved with national issues. Out of the Studio developed the *Arab Association for the Fine Arts* which had a more distinct national outlook. The Association saw its mission as the promotion of a distinct role for the arts and artists in a future independent Syrian state, thus linking aesthetic concerns with clear, political goals.30

While certain structures were established under the French Mandate that constituted elements of an organized, institutionalized art scene, after independence, the young Syrian state began to create structures for the production and presentation of art. And although training still needed to be sought abroad, a program of scholarships was implemented that enabled young artists to travel for their studies, regardless of the financial situation of their families.


**Fig. 1** Tawfiq Tarek: *Self Portrait,* 1936, pencil on paper, 29 x 23 cm, National Museum, Damascus, Photo: Delphine Leccas. Tawfiq Tarek, an important *ruwwad* artist, is often mentioned as the first modern artist in Syria by Syrian art historians. He is known for his paintings of "nationalist" character, but also for his portraits and was an important figure of the Damascene art scene during the Mandate period.

**Fig.2** Tawfiq Tarek: *The Artist's Wife*, 1936, pencil on paper, 29 x 23 cm, National Museum, Damascus, Photo: Delphine Leccas.

**Fig.3** Subhi Shuaib: *Water Porter,* 1936, watercolor, 21 x 17 cm, Atassi Foundation. Subhi Shuaib's portrait of a member of the Syrian working class is a good example of the character of art production during the Mandate and already points toward the interest in popular classes and their lives that became major concerns of some post-independence artists.

**3**

#### After independence

After independence, the Syrian state began organizing an annual fine arts exhibition. The first of its kind was titled "Exhibition of Hand Painting" and took place in 1950. The somewhat curious title testifies to the still-developing category of fine art in Syria and suggests an understanding of painting as the work of skilled artisans, rather than of fine artists in the modern, European sense. With this exhibition, the presence of modern painting in Syria was institutionalized and artists were offered an annual event at which they could present new works to their audience.31 While the establishment of an annual exhibition in Damascus ensured regular exhibition opportunities for artists, serious training still had to be sought elsewhere. To facilitate this, Syria entered a joint agreement with the Italian government in 1952 to send art students to Italy to study at the *Accademia di Belle Arti*.32 The students received a small stipend from the Italian government, a grant for art supplies, library access and exhibiting opportunities. They were required to remain politically neutral and, upon their return to Syria, to offer their services to the government by taking up positions in rural preparatory schools for the same amount of time as their fellowships had lasted.33

In general, the Syrian art scene of the early independence era appears to have been vibrant and to have offered plenty of opportunities for artists. In 1950, Damascus was host to a travelling exhibition organized by the office of the UNESCO Director-General in Paris that comprised of reproductions of modern European paintings. This proved highly inspirational for the local artists and was welcomed as an important opportunity for study, as they only rarely had the chance to see paintings at close range and mostly had to rely on images in books.34 Private initiatives also contributed with a number of artist-run associations that organized exhibitions of the works of their members: The *Syrian Society for Arts*, *Society for Lovers of Fine Arts* and *Association of Syrian Artists for Painting and Sculpture*.35 For many Syrian art historians and critics, the independence of Syria marks the beginning of serious artistic activity in the country and the starting point of a real "Syrian" art. Thus, Afif Bahnasi defines it as "the rebirth of a nation, whose origins date far back in history."36


**Fig.4** Mahmoud Jalal: *Tent of a Beduin Family*, 1951, watercolor, 22 x 30 cm, National Museum, Damascus, Photo: Delphine Leccas. A concern with the popular classes was common among many artists of the early post-independence era. It was especially their connectedness to the soil that was seen as expressions of a genuine national feeling.

**Fig.5** Khaled Moaz: *Farm of Imran*, 1955, watercolor, 66 x 55 cm, National Museum, Damascus, Photo: Delphine Leccas.

**Fig.6** Khaled Moaz: *Sheikh Muhieddin Ibn Arabi*, 1955, watercolor, 56 x 66 cm, National Museum, Damascus; Photo: Delphine Leccas. Paintings of significant landmarks and landscapes served as expressions of national belonging and connectedness to Syrian history. Here the tomb of the Sufi sheikh Ibn Arabi (1165–1240) in Damascus with its surrounding greenery is depicted as part of an almost pastoral idyll in the city.

At the end of the 1950s and throughout the 1960s, important changes in the social and political realm were ushered in. From 1958–1961 Syria joined Egypt in the United Arab Republic (UAR) and with this, took over Egyptian structures, also in the field of art and culture. 1958 saw the establishment of the *Ministry of Culture and National Orientation* with branches in Cairo and Damascus. It included a *Directorate of Plastic Arts*, another of *Applied Arts* as well as departments dedicated to exhibitions, popular arts, prizes and acquisitions, and monuments and statuary.37 With these institutions came an official cultural policy, whose guidelines called for a general cultural outlook to "develop Pan-Arab awareness and help citizens to improve their social standing, boost their morale and strengthen their sense of responsibility, and motivate them to cooperate, make sacrifices and intensify efforts to serve their country and humanity."38 It is worth noting that the ministry did not prescribe a particular style of painting, as was common in other authoritarian contexts such as the USSR and the communist states of Eastern Europe that sought to enforce socialist realism on artists. The ministry also gave artists the freedom to choose which subject matter they wanted to focus on in order to achieve the stated goals.

One year into the UAR, an art school was finally established in Syria. The *Institute of Plastic Art* in Damascus was inaugurated in 1959 (it was re-named *Faculty of Fine Arts* in 1963 when it became a degree-granting faculty) and staffed mainly by Egyptian teachers, with some notable Syrian artists among its faculty. During the first year, courses were given in painting and sculpture with engraving, décor, and architecture being added to the curriculum in the second year. The Institute was thought of as a site for cultivating good taste and high aesthetic standards and should offer citizens opportunities for self-actualization, and eventually lead the country toward more revolutionary social goals.39

After the collapse of the United Arab Republic in 1961, the school's administration urgently needed to replace the Egyptian teachers who had hitherto formed the art school's main teaching staff. Through the help of international organizations and exchange programs, international artists from Poland, Bulgaria, Italy and France were recruited to fill the positions. One artist in particular, the Italian painter Guido La Regina became an influential figure during the time of his tenure (1964–1967), both at the school and on the local art scene. A proponent of avant-garde practice as well as education, his approach to abstraction laid the foundation for an important movement of formal experimentation and inspired a number of Syrian artists to look towards the Arabic script as the basis for their abstract compositions. Not only did La Regina introduce entirely new approaches to the production of art, his way of teaching was just as experimental and led to a rethinking of art-pedagogical methods among his


<sup>37</sup> Lenssen 2014, p. 218.

Syrian colleagues. Thus, music was introduced with the aim of encouraging students to explore the relations between color and sound and to reach into realms that lie beyond the visible.40 It was argued that the approaches to teaching and producing art undertaken in Damascus were in fact "more modern" than those practiced in Rome, where the antique academic traditions were still dominant. In Damascus, on the contrary, the fact that an entirely new curriculum was being created allowed for a true break with illusionistic tradition and constituted a "new step according with the spirit of new thought, new outlook, and the new Arab human."41

The lively culture of artistic freedom and experimental approaches to producing and teaching art that flourished at the Faculty of Fine Arts lasted until 1967, the year that changed everything in the Arab world and led to an entirely new outlook among artists and cultural producers in general. Shocked by the events of the Arab-Israeli War of that year, during which Syria lost the Golan Heights to Israel, artists staged a spontaneous demonstration in the Yusuf Al-Azmeh square in central Damascus, bringing posters and drawings which testified to their horror at the events of the war. The need to communicate directly with the public necessitated a more activist artistic language and led many artists to favor more outspoken, figurative work and abandon abstraction. While some artists warned against this stance, representational art came to be seen as having a greater potential to connect with society in a meaningful way, a notion that was quickly taken up by the Ministry of Culture. In addition to its annual autumn exhibition, it also sponsored several other exhibitions that year with the aim of addressing the contemporary pain felt by artists and public alike. The themes were given by the titles of these exhibitions: one was titled "Aggression", the other "Mobilization."42

This ideological stance became the standard within the context of state-sponsored artistic events in the years to follow. But while many artists did feel a genuine commitment to their society and to broader issues of the political situation in the Arab world, the rigidity of the frame within which art was taught, produced and presented by state structures had a stifling effect on artists. The vibrancy of the earlier years is largely lacking in later works, many of which are driven by feelings of lurking dangers and anxiety. The artist Boutros Maari has referred to this phenomenon as "art angoissé" and "art violent" and related it directly to the bitterness that followed the Arab cause's defeat after the disaster of 1967.43

<sup>40</sup> Lenssen 2013, pp. 54–57; Lenssen 2014, p. 303.

<sup>41</sup> Mahmoud Hammad, cited in Lenssen 2014, p. 304.

<sup>42</sup> Lenssen 2014, pp. 319–321. See also Lenssen 2013 for a general account of the impact of the events of 1967 on the art scene in Syria.

<sup>43</sup> Maari 2006, p. 363.

#### Artists between freedom and censorship

Artists and the state have been closely tied to one another since Syria received its independence and their relations have often been conflictual in nature. While the immediate post-independence era was characterized by efforts at state-building and artists saw themselves as taking a central role therein, the Pan-Arab culture policy initiated during the UAR was the beginning of policies to monitor and influence the work of artists, a tendency, that continued after the dissolution of the UAR and that became even more pronounced after the Ba'th party came to power through a coup in 1963. In several ways, the state tried to intervene in artists' production and forced them into the defensive position of protecting themselves from what they perceived as an illegitimate interference. Such measures to control and guide artistic production are a typical feature of authoritarian states. Contrary to high modernist notions of the autonomous artist, working in a sphere separate from the concerns of the world, art is here regarded as a powerful tool, a tool that can and should be used to disseminate certain ideas and ideologies. At the same time, it is a tool that needs to be strictly controlled, lest its influence on society run counter to the wishes of those in power. In such a system, art is regarded as imminently powerful by all who participate in its production, distribution and control.44

The contradictions of cultural and artistic policy under the Ba'th regime is illustrated by its changing promotion of different artistic approaches. In the early years of Ba'th party rule during the 1960s, the Ministry of Culture promoted the country's abstract painters on the international circuit of biennials and exhibitions and even sought to bring their work into harmony with the socialist model promoted by the ruling party.45 The Faculty of Fine Arts at the University of Damascus enjoyed a culture of free experimentation during these years and its teachers were expected to provide education that corresponded to contemporary curricula. But despite the positive impact this had on the wider art scene in the country, the Directorate of Plastic Arts under the leadership of Afif Bahnassi sought to exert more direct control over the work of artists. Thus, artists wishing to submit work to the autumn exhibition of 1965 were asked to keep to the theme of "national art." When a number of artists protested, Bahnassi responded by asserting that rather than imposing restrictions on artists, the policy represented increased support, especially for those artists who wanted to work outside the gallery and market system. The protesting artists succeeded in reversing the policy, but they had also been reminded of the fact that the state saw itself fit to intervene in the field of artistic production wherever it felt compelled to do so, and that it held the view that art should stand in the service of the state and its goals.46

46 Lenssen 2014, pp. 282–283, 302.

<sup>44</sup> Sjeklocha and Mead 1967, p. 61. For parallels to a different context, namely the use of cinema in Iran by the state to promote Islamic values and mores, see Naficy 2002, p. 29.

<sup>45</sup> Lenssen 2014, pp. 314–319.

When discussing Syrian art in the years after c. 1965, Afif Bahnasi has written that it had "left behind traditional movements in modern art" in favor of a more "authentic and original" art. He also insisted that artists' commitment was not officially imposed but rather came from a free and spontaneous engagement and testified to the artists' strong links with social reality.47 As the reaction of artists after the defeat of 1967 mentioned above shows, artists in Syria were indeed strongly engaged with their society. But as the protests surrounding the autumn exhibition of 1965 and its theme of "national art" shows, artists did not necessarily hold the same views as state officials of how "commitment" should be articulated.

Working within the context of an authoritarian state presents artists with an entire array of difficulties. They are placed in a precarious situation, in which being able to work and steer clear of persecution requires a constant balancing act between their aesthetic concerns and interests as citizens and cultural agents on one hand, and the regime's system of control and coercion on the other. The fact that artists still succeed in producing meaningful art testify to their relentless search for new modes of expression and for ways to circumvent obstacles in their training and production of art.

#### Conclusion

Artists in Syria have at all times been forced to navigate often hazardous terrains. The changing political systems, first under Ottoman and later French colonial rule and a series of more or less autocratic regimes following independence, have meant that artists have often been preoccupied with everything but the actual production of art.

For a very long time, since the so-called *ruwwad* artists, getting the desired training required travelling far away from familiar surroundings. Artists were driven by the wish to learn skills deemed necessary for a civilized, modern nation and upon returning to their home country, eagerly shared their knowledge as educators and initiators of various artistic activities.

The institutionalization of the art world began during the French Mandate and was continued after 1946, when Syria became a sovereign state, culminating in the establishment of a Ministry of Culture in 1958 and a genuine art academy in 1959, the Institute of Plastic Art, later re-named the Faculty of Fine Arts. However, with these institutions also came greater efforts by the state to intervene in the education and production of art. The Faculty remained a bastion of free expression and experimentation until 1967, where the Arab defeat in the Arab-Israeli War led to a general change in cultural and artistic outlook.

#### Bibliography


# On the Contributors

**Rikako Akagi** was awarded a PhD by the Graduate School of Art and Design, University of Tsukuba in 1991. She has worked at Okayama University since 1993, teaching art education. She has published several articles in Japanese about the history of art education in modern Japan.

**Lamia Balafrej** is Assistant Professor of Art History at the University of California, Los Angeles, specializing in the arts of the Islamic world. Her first book, *The Making of the Artist in Late Timurid Painting* (Edinburgh University Press, 2009), examines metapictoriality and the representation of authorship in Persian painting.

**Charlotte Bank** holds a PhD in Arabic from the University of Geneva and has held positions and fellowships at the University of Geneva, Orient Institut Beirut and Museum of Islamic Art in Berlin. In her scholarly and curatorial work, she focuses on modern and contemporary art from the Middle East.

**Xin Hu** studied at the Academy of Fine Arts in Tianjin and Beijing, as well as at the HFBK Hochschule für bildende Künste Hamburg and Hamburg University. In Hamburg she completed her doctoral thesis in Art Education. She is currently working as an art teacher.

**Ok-Hee Jeong** has conducted research into cultural identity issues revealed through art education. She completed her PhD from 2008 to 2012 at Goldsmiths College, University of London and taught visual arts in secondary schools in South Korea for fifteen years from 1991 to 2009. She has worked at the College of Liberal Education in Mokwon University as an assistant professor since 2015.

**Johannes Kirschenmann** holds a chair in art paedagogy and is Vice President of the Academy of Fine Arts Munich. His main research areas are didactic iconography, "image signatures", and digitally supported mediation modes. Since 1990 he has been co-editor of the journal *Kunst+Unterricht* and editor of the series *Kontext Kunstpädagogik*.

**Alexander Klee** is curator at the Belvedere in Vienna. He is in the process of compiling the catalogue raisonné of Adolf Hölzel. His research focuses on the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. He recently curated the exhibition Cubism – Constructivism – Form Art as well as Beyond Klimt – New Horizons in Central Europe.

**Werner Kraus** studied Southeast Asian Studies at the University of Heidelberg, Germany and at Cornell University, Ithaca, New York. He completed his PhD at the University of Heidelberg. 1984 he co-founded the chair for Southeast Asian Studies at University of Passau, Germany. He wrote a biography of Raden Saleh and curated his first solo exhibition at the Galeri Nasional, Jakarta, in 2012. Presently he is the director of the Centre for Southeast Asian Art in Passau, Germany.

**Peter M. Lukehart** is Associate Dean at the Center for Advanced Study in the Visual Arts, National Gallery of Art (2001–present). He served as editor of the *Accademia Seminars* (2009) and is project director for the website "The History of the Accademia di San Luca, c. 1590–1635: Documents from the Archivio di Stato di Roma" (https://www.nga.gov/ accademia/en/intro.html).

**Nino Nanobashvili** is a curatorial assistant at the Pinakotheken in Munich, working in the curatorial team of the exhibition *Florence and its Painters*. In her PhD thesis *Das ABC des Zeichnens. Die Ausbildung der Künstler und Dilettanti* (published 2018) she examines drawing practices and manuals in Italy in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.

**Harold Pearse** is Professor Emeritus at the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design University and Adjunct Professor in the Faculty of Education at the University of Alberta. He has presented and published widely on various aspects of art education. He is a practicing artist with numerous solo and group exhibitions and work in public and private collections.

**Judith Rottenburg** is a postdoctoral research fellow in the project "Bilderfahrzeuge. Aby Warburg's Legacy and the Future of Iconology" at the Humboldt University Berlin, as well as in the project "Developing Theatre" at LMU Munich. She received her PhD in Art History from the LMU in 2017, completing a dissertation on the cosmopolitan arts in post-independence Senegal.

**Caroline Sternberg**, 1999–2004, studies in Art History, Slavistics and Archeology in Munich and Prague. 2005–2014, dissertation on the topic Academy and cultural modernisation – *The Prague academy of art (1840–1870)* in Leipzig. 2008–2011, Research Assistant at the Haus der Bayerischen Geschichte in Augsburg. Since 2012, Head of the archive of the Akademie der Bildenden Künste München.

**Elena S. Stetskevich**, PhD in History, North-West Institute of Management, Branch of RANEPA, Saint-Petersburg, Russia. For 17 years she has been teaching a number of courses on various issues of Russian and European history, as well as studying the history of science, culture and art. She is the author of 45 publications, including 1 monograph.

**Tobias Teutenberg** is a Munich-based art historian. He worked until 2018 as Assistant Professor and Assistant to the Director at the Central Institute for Art History (Munich) and the Ludwig-Maximilians University Munich, where he also received his PhD in art history (2019).

**Oscar E. Vázquez**, Professor of Art History (University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign), specializes in modern Latin American and Spanish visual cultures. He is author of *The End, Again. Degeneration and Visual Culture in Modern Spain* (2017) and *Inventing the Art Collection. Patrons, Markets and the State in Nineteenth-Century Spain* (2001).

**Veronika Winkler** is a PhD candidate at the Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität München. Her dissertation examines the pictorial programs in the cloisters of monasteries of viceregal Peru, in which religious orders portrayed the lives of their founders. A three-year scholarship from the Evangelische Studienwerk Villigst (2014–2017) supported her research in Peru.

**Kenji Yamaguchi** started his research in the sociology of education in the Graduate School of Education, Kyoto University, under the direction of Dr. Yo, Takeuchi, and now works at Okayama University. He is currently more involved in the study of the sociology of art, or culture.

From early modern to modern times, drawing was fi rmly anchored in the realities of European society as a cultural technique. Based on this fact, the present volume asks for the fi rst time about the signifi cance of drawing and drawing education in other cultural areas. Indigenous methods of drawing and sign-learning in Arabic, Asian, Latin American, North American and European countries are addressed, as well as historical transfer processes of didactic methods, aesthetic norms and educational institutions of drawing instruction.