The 300th anniversary of Antoine Watteau’s death (July 18, 1721) passed almost unnoticed. The world of this artist, with its comic actors and theatrical performers, is best revealed by his atelier. The image of this place, handed down to us by a contemporary, is in some ways shocking.
The painter “rarely cleaned his palette and often went several days without replenishing it. The vase of grease oil, of which he made so much use, was full of dirt and dust and all the colors that came out of his brushes as he dipped them in.” This chaotic environment was the place where Watteau painted “the secret tragedy of a society that loses itself in the full satisfaction of its desires” (A. Hauser).
One of his earliest paintings commemorated the fateful day of May 13, 1697, when, following various conspiracies, Italian actors were expelled from Paris by a decree of the Sun King. The seal placed on the doors of the theatre under the mild gaze of a Harlequin gave rise to an impressive series of theatrical compositions. Watteau understood that the stage is not a neutral space and that, once a show is over, the audacity of a performance can be at the cost of exclusion or reprisal.
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