Grand Salon Carré (France) 1855

Curator: My first impression is one of organized chaos—a dizzying amount of paintings all crammed together! Editor: Indeed. What we’re seeing here is an albumen print by André-Adolphe-Eugène Disdéri, titled “Grand Salon Carré (France)," dating back to 1855. Disdéri captured the Salon Carré at the Louvre, which even then was quite a spectacle of accumulated artistic masterpieces. Curator: The light’s gorgeous, sort of dappled and soft. But, good heavens, how did anyone actually *see* anything properly, stuck way up there on the top row? I wonder if the idea was to just overwhelm viewers into some kind of aesthetic stupor? Editor: In a way, that excess speaks volumes about the historical context, doesn’t it? It embodies 19th-century ideals of grandeur and imperial power, reflected in the Salon Carré’s sheer visual density and selective display. Curator: Well, I see it more as a kind of… creative democracy, perhaps? I mean, the guy clearly loves paintings! He wants everyone to see ALL the paintings. Even if you need binoculars. It's inclusive… in a nutty sort of way. Or, I bet, there's no curatorial focus! Editor: Interesting point. Though I think the curatorial absence creates hierarchies. Those in the “know,” usually from privileged backgrounds, would've felt validated, whereas others were subtly excluded. That abundance might suggest whose culture is valued and, more significantly, *who* determines that value. Curator: Oh, you’re probably right! All I know is that looking at this makes me want to run through an art gallery and rearrange all the paintings—just for kicks, you know? Disrupt the order. Editor: Disruption sounds like progress sometimes! What I find fascinating is how this single photograph captures an entire discourse about art, power, and access, still resonating today. Curator: Right you are. And me? Well, I simply adore those little tiny chairs lined up neatly beneath all those masterpieces! Don’t you just love those tiny chairs?