Reception Piece

Reception Piece

Visitors pass quickly through the room known as the Petite Galerie de l’Académie, without stopping much (Richelieu, room 219). Or, on the contrary, certain copyists come here with their folding stools and linger a long while in front of one or another of these sculptures that artists once submitted to the Royal Academy as they applied for admission. There are so many sculptures, so closely packed, so interchangeable to the untrained eye, that the passing tourist can hardly make out what gives each one its charm—the nude, the movement, the drapery—but the copyists, meanwhile, settle down to work. The other day, two young women had set up in the narrow aisle between the exhibited pieces, blocking the way; they consulted each other, commented on their prowess. Two others were leaning against Boizot’s Racine in the next room (Richelieu, room 221). And so the Louvre, despite the rising tide of democratic tourism, has preserved its original mission as a studio.