The Salon
Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Fruits of the Midi (1881). Courtesy of The Art Institute of Chicago
In the shadow of chandeliers and the murmur of conversation, something remarkable happened in the salons of centuries past: art met philosophy, and conversation sparked revolution. Today, the term “salon” may conjure images of artistic conformity and “official” good taste - but the truth is far more dynamic. The salon is not a fixed format or historical relic; it is a centuries-old social and artistic institution, continually reinventing itself in new forms and spaces. The salon was both social and subversive, offering a platform where new ideas could be tested away from the market’s glare.
This is the a quick history of the Salon—its origins, its upheavals, and a look at its ongoing role as a platform for artists in the 21st century.
The Intellectual Heart of (what came slightly after) Early Modern Europe
The concept of the salon was born in 17th-century France, rooted in the aristocratic and literary circles of Paris. These gatherings, often led by women (called salonnières), were held in private homes where invited guests would engage in conversation about politics, philosophy, poetry, and the arts.
Notable early hosts like Catherine de Vivonne, Marquise de Rambouillet, and Madame de Scudéry helped shape salon culture into an intellectual phenomenon. Their salons offered a refuge from the rigidity of court life and the growing absolutism of the monarchy, allowing ideas to circulate freely in a time when printing was still limited and dangerous ideas were often censored.
Salons nurtured Enlightenment thinkers like Voltaire, Diderot, and Rousseau, and played a pivotal role in disseminating progressive ideals. Conversations sparked within salon walls echoed in books, pamphlets, and eventually in revolutions—first intellectual, then political.
From Court Patronage to Cultural Powerhouse
While the philosophical salon flourished in private parlors, a parallel development was taking shape in the visual arts.
In 1667, under Louis XIV, the French Royal Academy of Painting and Sculpture organized its first public art exhibition at the Louvre. This event became known simply as "The Salon", after the grand hall in which it was held. By the 18th century, this exhibition had become the official arbiter of artistic taste in France—and by extension, much of Europe.
Starting in 1673, livrets—printed catalogs—were distributed to guide viewers through the exhibitions. These public exhibitions brought together diverse Parisians to see, critique, and debate art, effectively making the Salon a space for shaping public taste.
The Salon had enormous influence: inclusion could launch a career, while rejection often meant obscurity. But it was also conservative, adhering to academic standards of technique, subject matter, and style. Innovation was rarely welcome.
Initially, the Salon was tightly controlled by the monarchy and the Académie. From 1667 to 1789, only Académie members could exhibit. After the French Revolution, state sponsorship of the Salon continued under different government bodies. In 1795, the École des Beaux-Arts replaced the old Académie, and the Salon opened to a wider range of artists, including foreigners. American artists debuted in 1800.
To have a work accepted into the Salon jury was considered the ultimate stamp of approval. It could bring critical acclaim, commissions, and public prestige. But by the mid-1800s, the Salon had become deeply conservative, favoring technically perfect yet emotionally sterile works—historical scenes, classical allegories, and idealized nudes. Technique trumped originality. The jury prized exact anatomical detail and flawless perspective over any emotional or conceptual engagement. The result was often cold, studio-bound art disconnected from modern life.
Some prime examples of Salon-approved art, such as Alexandre Cabanel’s Birth of Venus or William Bouguereau’s Youth and Love, can still be seen in the Musée d’Orsay in Paris. These works showcase polished nudes rendered in classical settings—nudity permitted as long as it was veiled in mythological allegory, thus preserving public morality.
This tension exploded in 1863, when a flood of submissions overwhelmed the Salon jury, and thousands of artists were rejected.
In response to public outcry, Napoleon III ordered the creation of the Salon des Refusés, allowing the public to view works that had been denied official approval. Among them: Édouard Manet’s Le Déjeuner sur l’herbe, a painting that scandalized critics with its depiction of a nude woman casually picnicking with clothed men—modern Parisians, not mythical figures. The nude gazes directly at the viewer, real and unidealized, asserting her presence with calm confidence.
In Olympia (1865), Manet portrayed a reclining prostitute staring out at her viewer—her next client. Her pose echoed classical nudes, but her identity and bluntness scandalized the bourgeoisie.
Both works were dismissed by critics for their unfinished appearance, visible brushwork, and their unapologetic modernity. But they pointed to a new direction: Manet rejected the Salon’s doctrine of technical polish in favor of a painter's freedom to experiment. His works forced viewers to confront art not as polished illusion but as constructed reality.
The official Salon’s conservatism drove many others—Monet, Degas, Renoir, Pissarro—to seek alternatives. These artists were routinely rejected by the jury for their non-traditional subjects and techniques. In 1874, a group of them staged an independent exhibition, where Monet’s Impression, Sunrise gave rise to the term Impressionism. Critics derided their work as "unfinished sketches," but these artists were not imitating nature—they were capturing its fleeting impression.
This moment marked a turning point. The artistic salon was no longer just a state-endorsed exhibition—it became a battleground between tradition and innovation, opening the door to Impressionism, Symbolism, and eventually Modernism.
The Impressionists left the studio behind, painting outdoors to capture light, season, and atmosphere. Their loose brushwork and vivid color palette defied Salon expectations, valuing sensation over precision. For them, it wasn’t about technique—it was about sharing a moment, an emotional response, a scene as seen through the eye of the artist.
Out of Impressionism grew new movements. Neo-Impressionism, led by Georges Seurat and Paul Signac, introduced Pointillism—meticulously applied dots of pure color that blended optically in the viewer’s eye. Works like Seurat’s A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte reflect both scientific inquiry and artistic innovation.
This wave of independent innovation gave birth to new exhibition venues. The Salon des Indépendants (1884), created by Seurat, Signac, Cézanne, and others, had no jury or prizes. It provided total freedom, and it was here that Henri Matisse would debut his Fauvist works like Luxe, Calme et Volupté (1905) and Le Bonheur de Vivre (1906).
The 20th Century: Salons of the Avant-Garde
By the early 20th century, official Salons had lost their dominance. The rise of independent exhibitions, modern movements, and avant-garde networks gave artists the freedom to challenge academic tradition and reimagine what art could be. Paris in the early 1900s gave rise to salons of a different kind—bohemian, interdisciplinary, radical. In the home of Gertrude Stein, writers like Ernest Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald rubbed shoulders with artists like Pablo Picasso and Henri Matisse. These informal gatherings were crucibles of the modernist movement.
The Salon d’Automne, founded in 1903, became a showcase for modernism across disciplines—painting, sculpture, architecture, and decorative arts. Its 1905 show introduced the Fauves, or "wild beasts," whose use of exaggerated, unnatural color shocked viewers. Their goal was not to depict things as they appeared, but to convey emotion through vibrant color and simplified form.
The Salon d’Automne also hosted critical retrospectives: Manet and Ingres (1905), Gauguin (1906), and Cézanne (1907). These exhibitions solidified the importance of these artists and greatly influenced the next generation. Picasso, who attended Cézanne’s retrospective, would soon revolutionize art with Les Demoiselles d’Avignon.
Elsewhere, salons took root in Weimar Berlin, Bloomsbury London, Harlem during the Renaissance, and New York in the post-war years. Salons were where movements were named, manifestos drafted, and boundaries dissolved between poetry, performance, painting, and politics.
Unlike the rigid exclusivity of earlier salons, these newer iterations emphasized intellectual freedom, anti-elitism, and experimentation. Still, many retained the core features of early salons: intimate settings, cross-disciplinary dialogue, and the belief that art must be shared, discussed, and challenged to thrive.
The Salon as an Ongoing Practice
In recent years, artists have been reviving the salon format with fresh urgency. Another exciting frontier in art isn’t unfolding behind closed doors as a new wave of private salons redefines how we experience and engage with contemporary art. Intimate, invitation-only gathering hosted in homes offer a respite from the transactional sterility defining much of the commercial art world, alienation through digital media and hierarchies of the gallery system. Instead, these salons offer a return to something more human, more generous: to presnce, process and participating, to art as a social act, rooted in conversation, cross-disciplinary exchange, and community.
Modern salons - such as Johanna and Friedrich Gräfling’s Salon Kennedy in Frankfurt as a particularly eccentric example - are cropping up here and there. Another such iteration is “Le Salon,” founded by Lauren Gardner, honouring an intimate spirit, where works are encountered in situ: above a sofa, in a hallway, accompanied by a performance or a short story read aloud by its author. Gardner’s approach is rooted in tenderness: creating space for contemporary art to be experienced in ways often lost in the commercial churn of fairs and institutions. There are rules, of course. Rule one: the salon must be hosted in a woman’s home—no exceptions. Rule two: visual art must be presented alongside another form—writing, music, film, or performance. Rule three: remember, it’s a party.
A modern Salon can come in many forms:
• Artist-run spaces where exhibitions double as discussion forums.
• Virtual salons connecting creatives across continents.
• Living room salons, reviving the intimacy of early gatherings.
• Critique nights and peer review collectives focused on feedback and growth.
• Pop-up salons in bookstores, cafes, and studios—fluid, mobile, and inclusive.
Such reimagineings draw a direct line to the literary salons of the past where transatlantic avant-gardes once gathered to challenge norms and fuel the cultural vanguard. Today’s versions echo that spirit, while addressing the modern fatigue with formulaic exhibition models. Contemporary salons embrace experimentation and are shaped by a belief that artistic practice thrives not in isolation, but in dialogue.The enduring appeal of the salon lies in its balance of structure and spontaneity. It is not a gallery, a school, or a club—but it borrows from all three, creating a space where, critique coexists with care, ideas are as important as objects and the act of gathering is itself a form of creation. At its best, a salon isn’t about showcasing mastery—it’s about nurturing it. It doesn’t just celebrate art; it creates the conditions in which art can happen.
To join or create a salon today is to step into a long and evolving tradition—one that spans centuries and continents, shaped by writers, the more or less rebellious and quiet experimenters. It is to say that conversation matters, that art grows through exchange, and that community is as important as creativity. The Salon offers a powerful reminder: art is not just something we make—it’s something we share.