In search of a lost ceiling
A quest for Renoir's painting of the ceiling of the hôtel Bibesco, in Paris (1868-1872)
First things first: the book launch will be this Friday, July 5, in Rio :) I’ll be at Livraria da Travessa (Botafogo) by 7 pm - do come if you are in town!
How do you organize your research topics? I must confess I drive between many research topics simultaneously and it’s not easy to describe these dynamics. Spin-offs are almost inevitable and that’s how I found today’s theme: a ceiling from a living room. But not any ceiling - just imagine that the Sistine Chapel inspired you and that Michelangelo was not available for you to hire. Who would you call?
Meanwhile, in Paris
Well, architect Charles Le Coeur didn’t think twice: he hired a young man called Pierre-Auguste Renoir, who, at the time, was just starting as a painter, to decorate the ceiling of the living room from Romanian prince Georges Bibesco, in Paris. Bibesco’s hôtel particulier was located at 22, Boulevard de La Tour-Maubourg, in the 7e arrondissement from Paris, and was built between 1868 and 1872.
The first time I ever heard about the Bibesco-Bassaraba clan was in 2022 - I found a carte de visite from Georges’ brother, Grégoire, and started to inquire some more about the family. It’s amazing how such a small material evidence - a paper card, no bigger than 5 x 4 cm - can work as a deep ignition for research: a single name opens a new path, and there you go walking in a different yellow brick road. Little did I know that this family was linked to several intellectual and literary groups, with a keen interest in science (astronomy in particular); and that Grégoire’s daughter Anna de Noailles was a close friend of Marcel Proust himself. Even though the Bibescos lived part-time at Villa Bassaraba, in Amphion, near Evian-les-Bains, in front of the Léman Lake, they also held prestigious addresses in Paris. The Prince de Brancovan’s main address, 34, avenue Hoche, was converted into a literary salon by Anna.
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While looking for pictures of the 34, avenue Hoche, I found a mention about George’s hôtel particulier. The brothers seemed to have shared the same architect, so, even though no pictures of Grégoire’s home were available, Georges’ case is a good illustration of how creative and refined an architectural project could be during the 2nd half of the 19th century.
It was not unusual for aspiring paintings to start with decorative tasks and even ceiling decorations. The Le Coeurs were close to Renoir, who, eventually, painted portraits of several members of this family, including Charles1. Even though Charles specialized as a school architect, he also dealt with a wealthy public and even projected some casinos in the South of France!
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The simple references to this ceiling decoration sounded incredible. According to Douglas Cooper, the paintings were “one in the manner of Tiepolo, the other of Fragonard” (1959, p.326). Renoir also prepared a design for a painted fan for Princess Georges Bibesco, this time “in the manner of Boucher” (idem). Sadly, Georges Bibesco’s hôtel particulier was bought by Prince Radziwill in 1880, who sold it to the Count of Martinet in 1891. In 1902-1903, the numbers 22 and 24 were turned into a single building, but the complex was largely demolished circa 1911. In 1959, only a part of the original right-wing remained.
“It’s nice to imagine it, but what if I want to see it?”
When I read about the description, and then about the building’s fate, I was sincerely disappointed. Did this mean that there were no traces left, and there would be no tool better than imagination to consider a painting “in the manner of Tiepolo”? I must confess this did not seem good enough for me - if I could not come inside the building and admire the ceiling per se, then there would be some register, somewhere, about this illustration made by a sensible painter, way before he’d become famous.
And well, there is; and we can take a peek at this classic illustration of one of Renoir’s studies for the ceiling panels. This figure shows “a di sotto in su perspective—the figures lean over a balustrade that opens up to the sky in a trompe l’oeil style that takes the perspective of the viewer into full account”2.
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This week’s post is largely a statement about how there are so many elements in the world just waiting to be mixed, to be put side-by-side because they are more enjoyable together. It is also a bit incredible that, yes, to our relief, there was some evidence left of this ceiling, even though the building was demolished. Can you imagine the receptions and the family’s day-by-day in this particular decor?
This is one of the most exciting parts of research: one tiny paper card led me to a demolished ceiling, which was the mark of a young painter, when he’d be Auguste, the friend of Charles, way before becoming “Renoir”. This might be - for now at least - as close as we can get to a time machine, and hopefully our vivid imagination gets by with a little help of physical evidence.
See COOPER, Douglas. Renoir, Lise and the Le Coeur Family: A Study of Renoir's Early Development-II: The Le Coeurs. The Burlington Magazine, Vol. 101, No. 678/679 (Sep. - Oct., 1959), pp. 320-329.