Discover the story of Adélaïde Labille-Guiard—a long-ignored artist and feminist of eighteenth-century France—in this imaginative and illuminating biography from an award-winning writer.Born in Paris in 1749, Adélaïde Labille-Guiard rose from shopkeeper’s daughter to an official portraitist of the royal court—only to have her achievements reduced to ash by the French Revolution. While she defied societal barriers to become a member of the exclusive Académie Royale and a mentor for other ambitious women painters, she left behind few writings, and her legacy was long overshadowed by celebrated portraitist and memoirist Élisabeth Vigée-Lebrun.But Adélaïde Labille-Guiard’s story lives on. In this engaging biography, Bridget Quinn applies her insightful interpretation of art history to Labille-Guiard’s life. She offers a fascinating new perspective on the artist’s feminism, her sexuality, and her vision of the world. Quinn expertly blends close analyses of paintings with broader context about the era and inserts delicately fictionalized interpersonal scenes that fill the gaps in the historical record. This is a compelling and inspiring look at an artist too long overlooked.INSPIRING HISTORICAL Despite numerous setbacks, Labille-Guiard built a legacy as an accomplished royal portraitist and a mentor to other young women artists of her era. This tale of solidarity, self-belief, and true passion for painting is sure to inspire contemporary creatives and women today. CREATIVE AND COMPELLING ART HISTORY Bridget Quinn is an award-winning author and art historian who has spent years researching Adélaïde Labille-Guiard’s work and life. She vividly evokes both and weaves a compelling narrative at the intersection of art, gender, and politics. GORGEOUS ART REPRODUCTIONS This biography features full-color images of artwork by Adélaïde Labille-Guiard, her rumored rival Élisabeth Vigée-Lebrun, and other artists of the era, including portraits of key players in the narrative. These images, interspersed throughout the book, offer valuable visual references to illuminate the engaging text even further.AN ARTFUL GIFT Uniquely crafted and thoroughly researched, this volume makes an outstanding gift for art history enthusiasts and readers who love exploring untold stories in women's history.Perfect of memoirs and biographiesHistory buffs and fans of historical fiction and nonfictionArtists, art lovers, museumgoers, and art history studentsFeminists and readers seeking feminist booksFrancophiles and those interested in the French RevolutionFans of Portrait of a Lady on Fire and other historical dramas
Bridget Quinn is author of She Votes: How U.S. Women Won Suffrage, and What Happened Next – illustrated by 100 women artists in honor of the centenary of the 19th Amendment – and the award-winning Broad Strokes: 15 Women Who Made Art and Made History (in That Order), published by Chronicle Books in 2017. Broad Strokes has been translated into four languages and selected for the Amelia Bloomer Book List of recommended feminist literature by the American Library Association. A graduate of New York University’s Institute of Fine Arts and a regular contributor to online arts magazine Hyperallergic, Quinn is a sought-after speaker on women and art. She is an avid sports fan and Iron(wo)man triathlete, and her Narrative magazine essay “At Swim, Two Girls” was included in The Best American Sports Writing 2013. She lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her family, dogs, and too many bikes.
Mostly narrative nonfiction with a good bit of art analysis and a splash of memoir, I enjoyed this book from start to finish. It felt like, and I mean this in the best way, a chaotic friend telling me their new interest that they haven’t slept in days over.
If you have even a passing interest in art or feminist history, this book is for you. The author explains art styles of the time wonderfully in a way that you don’t need an art history course under your belt to understand.
This isn’t so much a biography as a work of narrative non-fiction, and sometimes it’s not even non-fiction - Quinn freely imagines scenes, feelings, conversations; and while she assures us they’re fully grounded in plausibility, the same could be said of well-researched historical fiction. She invents entire characters, describes meetings that may never have taken place, and tells us what Adelaide was thinking, feeling, doing, wanting. It’s an interesting book, as much about the author - and her feelings towards her subject - as it is about the subject herself. As Quinn tells us, Adelaide didn’t leave any papers. She really only left her art. The real Adelaide - what she thought, how she thought, how she learned, why she painted the way she did - is invisible; the Adelaide of this book is the author’s construction.
It’s notable that Quinn includes excerpts from the memoirs of Elisabeth Vigee-Lebrun; although she makes the point that the two women were not necessarily the rivals that history has portrayed, I couldn’t help a sneaking suspicion that the real reason she included Vigee-Lebrun’s excerpts because they are lively and alive. We know Vigee-Lebrun (or the Vigee-Lebrun whom Vigee-Lebrun wished us to know) because of her memoirs, which are personable and fascinating. We know how, for example, Vigee-Lebrun felt about her father’s death, because Vigee-Lebrun has told us; about Adelaide’s mother’s death the author can really only say that it happened. That said, I also found interesting the author’s insistence that Adelaide felt no rivalry with Vigee-Lebrun, that she thought of them as on different paths: we don’t have any of Adelaide’s own words attesting to that, and we have Vigee-Lebrun’s words claiming that Adelaide tried to slander her to the king’s aunts. The author has prioritized her imagined Adelaide over historical Elisabeth.
I really enjoyed this, actually, despite the prior several paragraphs of complaining; Quinn is a talented writer and she has written a really interesting, feminist book about the history of eighteenth century art (and I’ll probably be re-reading it with that in mind). It’s just not a nonfiction biography of Adélaïde Labille-Guiard.
I received an ARC for free but these are very much my own honest opinions.
*Thanks to netgalley and the publisher for providing an advanced copy in exchange for an honest review.*
It is difficult to write a biography on an artist who left very little in the historical record. Beyond some info and her paintings, we know very few specifics about Labille-Guiard's life, which is a shame given she lived through the French Revolution and was an active painter at the time. However, I felt like this book was too focused on Vigee-Lebrun, a contemporary female artist who left a strong legacy and biography behind that, despite never mentioning Labille-Guiard, the author has used as a common element throughout the book. Vigee-Lebrun's shadow lurks throughout the book, the author using it to frame a rivalry between the two women that may have existed, but may not have. The author relies to much on personal opinion in her recreation of Labille-Guiard's life, and while there are a good amount of sources used here, there are an equal number of sections where the author is making guesses on her thoughts and feelings. Which, isn't necessarily a bad thing, it's hard to recreate a sparsely documented life after all, it was just something I personally did not like. I did, however, enjoy the art reproductions, even in the ARC they were high quality and fantastic to look at.
I wasn't very interested in art history before discovering Bridget Quinn's first book, "Broad Strokes," but I couldn't put it down. Quinn brings the same engaging and irresistible voice to this biography of an overlooked, underrated French painter, Adélaïde Labille-Guiard. Quinn gives us a peek into the life of a woman in the 18th-century art world (spoiler: they were rare), and creates a fuller portrait of an artist who many others tried to erase and forget.
Review of Portrait of a Woman: Art, Rivalry, and Revolution in the Life of Adélaïde Labille-Guiard By Bridget Quinn Review by Joanne B. Mulcahy
In this compelling biography, Bridget Quinn describes a painting called Delightful Surprise, a 1779 depiction of a woman with bared breasts considered racy for the era. It could have been the book’s title. If you think you’re not interested in the lives and rivalry between two French eighteenth-century women painters, think again. Quinn is a lively writer and astute art historian whose fluid prose and imaginative leaps will keep you turning pages.
Quinn juxtaposes the written memoirs of Élisabeth Vigée-Lebrun, a painter from a privileged family, with the party imagined story of Adélaïde Labille-Guiard, a scrappy but savvy, hungry-to-paint artist whose father was a shopkeeper. Labille-Guiard left no diaries and only one English-language source exists. That absence frees Quinn to bring her to life via imagined scenes. And bring her to life she does, rescuing a remarkable artist from obscurity in juxtaposition with her more elite and well-documented counterpart. The balance of the two women’s lives provides a fitting structure for examining class, gender, and other inequities in social and art history.
Quinn uses the artists’ first names, establishing an intimacy and direct voice that keep us engaged (along with occasional profanity, always le mot juste at the right place).
We enter Élisabeth’s life through her sometimes rapturous memoirs of an upbringing graced with every advantage save that of being male. A gifted artist, she became the toast of Paris as Marie Antoinette’s painter. She married an art dealer-artist, had a daughter, and occasionally taught younger women artists (a task that bored her). Adélaïde traveled from her limited beginnings to study with a rare male painter willing to take on enterprising women. She started with miniatures, then moved into pastels, two of the media open to women. Of her two marriages, one was arranged, the other a happy union of convenience. Both women faced sexism at every turn. One major barrier was the limited number of women admitted to the Royal Academy, a source of prestige, exhibits, and income. Both artists rose to prominence and made their way into this rarified circle.
Enter a prominent Paris art patron who in 1777, exhibited both women’s self-portraits side by side. Thus began the rivalry that forms the book’s heart, although neither woman displayed personal animosity toward the other. When Élisabeth’s painting garnered more attention, she initially seemed the victor. But the tables turned as Adélaïde broke new ground with large-scale paintings and novel subjects. She never had children but she nurtured young female artists to become, in Quinn’s words, a “mother in art.” One of her protegees, Marie Gabrielle Capet, moved in with her until Adélaïde’s death in 1803.
With the 1789 revolution, the schism widened. There is drama and yes, heads do roll. Élisabeth fled for Italy, while Adélaïde, aligned with the basic goals of “egalite,” stayed behind to advocate for women artists. Quinn follows their later lives, which offer more surprises, building to a moving finale. The epilogue recounts the status of both women and consideration of their work today. Quinn’s lively account is a plea to recognize the less documented and still undervalued Adélaïde, and with her, a pantheon of neglected or forgotten artists.
This book will appeal to any reader interested in art history, women’s lives, and compelling storytelling. Quinn also provides an innovative model for writing biography. The genre is changing with the dominance of the Internet and disappearance of letters and other sources. Quinn offers a path in the direction of greater imagination and passionate voice.
I tend to consider all history through the lens of art history. So, I was delighted by this new book by Bridget Quinn that focused on two women artists active before, during and after the French Revolution. The main subject is the artist Adelaide Labille-Guiard, lesser-known throughout art history than her said rival, Elisabeth Vigee-Lebrun. Though Vigee-Lebrun has been called “the most important female artist of 18th-century France,” Quinn questions why women are pitted against each other when there should be room for all those deserving. Each chapter opens with a memoir entry from Elisabeth Vigee-Lebrun, a woman of wealth and priviledge, lucky enough to actually write her own story in her lifetime. This is followed by the author’s intimate reconstruction of Adelaide’s life — her struggles for women artists, her self-belief, her courage and curiosity — including moments of her youth (she worked alongside Comtesse du Barry in her family’s shop), membership in the Academie Royal and painting for the French Court, mentorship of women artists, and careful maneuvering through the Revolution (including painting Robespierre, a tense, and fascinating entry) and seeing her most ambitious painting burned in a bonfire. The author brings to life personal details and moments to fill in historical gaps, and acts as the friend and champion Adelaide needed in her lifetime (the champion so many lesser-known artists need). The book provides a unique perspective on 18th-century France as well as varying interesections of artists and historical figures (like Thomas Jefferson) in Europe at the time. Labille-Guiard is getting some past-due recongition and I plan to seek out both her work and that of Vegee-Lebrun, and experience it in an expanded way.
Thank you NetGalley for this early copy of Portrait of a Woman. I am such a fan of Adelaide Labille-Guiard and glad she, and other female artists are getting the spotlight. This builds on the book Broad Strokes, written earlier by Quinn. As Adelaide did not leave much of a written accounting of her life, much here is based on research and situations that were occurring during her lifetime. I would say this is a historical fiction book, with Quinn imagining reactions and thoughts of her main character. This is interspersed with actual writings from Elisabeth Vigee- LeBrun introducting new chapters. I thought that was a very interesting way to start them. Both women were very different, and a supposed rivalry between the two. Some of those flames were spread by a critic who opening his own show used their supposed rivarly to attract the crowds to his show. Was it a true one? What is known is the two women were admitted into the Royal Academy of Painting and Sculpture at the same time, they were in a minority of being two of the four women in a sea of 500 plus men allowed into said academy. Their alignment with the French Revolution was different as was their views to elevating other female artists. That said, there is no real documentation that they, anymore than any man, were competing for anything other than patronage and commissions. I thought the book was written in a very engaging way, bringing alive Adelaide's life. I love that Quinn is bringing her light to a very talented artist to the public. Whether you are an art lover, or just like a good story, this is a very well written and interesting read.
In this fascinating biography of eighteenth-century French artist Adelaide Labille-Guiard, Bridget Quinn brings her artistic talent amidst the French Revolution to life. Exploring her incredible rise to a position as an official portraitist of the royal court and a member of the Academie Royale, Quinn brings this incredibly talented yet forgotten historical woman to life in this detailed, unique, and easy-to-read historical biography. Full of detailed descriptions of her life in the eighteenth century and her professional work as an artist, Quinn has packed this novel full of historical information and relevant historical context both about eighteenth century France and art history from the period. A comprehensive and digestible biography, readers of all ages and skill levels should be able to read and understand Quinn’s latest book given her ability to bring people to life with a combination of detailed historical records and simple prose. A perspective of revolutionary France from just off the stage of the royal drama of the period, Adelaide Labille-Guiard’s life is an incredible insight into eighteenth century womanhood and life in revolutionary France for the everyday citizens. A combination of feminist studies, art history, and historical biography, this is an absolutely incredible and detailed biography that women historians must read.
Thanks to NetGalley and Chronicle Books for the advance copy.
Move over, Sydney Carton and the Scarlet Pimpernel. Bridget Quinn has given us another fascinating story set during the French Revolution, this one with a real-life woman hero. Meet Adélaïde Labille-Guillard, a haberdasher’s daughter who, not content with being one of the rare women admitted to the Royal Academy, fought valiantly, if unsuccessfully, to eliminate its gender-based quotas altogether. Although once a portraitist to the king’s aunts and other nobles, she managed to ride out the Reign of Terror with her neck intact. Robespierre himself posed for her before his own execution. Through social upheaval, traumatic art-banning, and an unhappy marriage, she kept painting and mentoring other women. In her lifetime, her work won acclaim from her contemporaries, but French museums ignored it after her death. Happily, some of her paintings found their way into important American museums and collections. Leaving astonishing canvases but no memoirs, diaries, or personal letters, Labille-Guillard was a challenging subject for her biographer. Nonetheless, Quinn, an engaging writer with a gift for explaining art, has woven the sparse threads into a lush, colorful portrait of a woman who was centuries ahead of her time.
I really wanted to like this book, but I found it very frustrating. I will say that I did learn a few things about 18th-century artist Adélaïde Labille-Guiard, but much more of the book was wasted time. The author admits that the story she tells is of “informed imagination,” but the imagination aspect was far stronger than the information. She writes Adélaïde as a character from a novel, telling us what Adélaïde is feeling in specific situations, including the positive thoughts she has for rival artist Élisabeth Vigée-Lebrun, even though there is no evidence for it. At one point the author makes up a character and shares the character’s thoughts as she looks at artwork by both artists. She also imbues the made up and real women with absurdly-21st-century thoughts. With a quarter history and three-quarters fiction, this book should not be marketed as biography.
Loved this book! I read this book when It came out and forgot to review it. This book demands a review! I’m always drawn to stories about strong women, and this one absolutely delivers a fascinating woman to admire and learn from. The artwork is stunning, adding depth and visual excitement to the narrative, while the writing is lively, engaging, and genuinely fun to read. Bridget Quinn’s humor shines throughout, yet she tackles serious and thought-provoking stories that are both important and relevant. This book is a wonderful blend of entertainment and inspiration, making it a must-read for anyone interested in empowering tales and captivating storytelling. Recommend this book for your book club!
A detailed portrait of the life of Adelaide Labille-Guiard, with quotes from Elisabeth Vigee Le Brun at the start of each chapter. Written in 2nd person, it's quite the interesting biography. The only aspect I disagree with is the two women viewing each other as rivals. I feel that is more the opinion of others, because at the end of the day, they were in many ways in the same boat with regard to their personal and professional lives. The artwork included was beautiful, showcasing the talent of Labille-Guiard to its best.
Thanks to NetGalley for access to this advanced copy. All thoughts and opinions are my own.
Portrait of a Woman is actually a double portrait. Two female painters working in the male dominated world of 17th century Paris. One left behind self-mythologizing writings, the other, Adeliaide Labille-Guiard, left very little. And she captured Quinn's imagination from early in her life as an art historian. She writes of her main subject through a conscious contemporary lens--through writing style and feminist perspectives, along with a bold book design. It's a nice conceit that I wish was used more, included more fanciful speculation. It's a taste thing, but I found it all a little bit twee.
Adelaide Labille-Guiard is a name I have never heard of prior to this book. I am fascinated by the troubles she went through to pursue her passion. Being born in a time when women were not intended to be in the workforce, she discovered her passion and made it her career. Realizing at a young age that she had a passion for art, she taught herself how to draw. Owing to the fact that she was a female, Adelaide was initially relegated to miniatures. But she refused to allow others to limit or restrict her. She kept perfecting her craft to the extent that she was able to provide a comfortable life for herself. Through determination, skill, toughness, she was able to forge a path not just for herself, but all female artists after her.
Captivating! In BROAD STROKES and SHE VOTES, Bridget Quinn served as a charming, smart guide through women's art and the women's suffragist movement. Here her distinctive voice returns, as she guides us through the fascinating life Adélaïde Labille-Guiard who was overshadowed by the celebrated Élisabeth Vigée-Lebrun. I loved the speculation, the subjunctive, and Quinn's imaginative leap of empathy that fills in gaps in the official record.
I've loved History of Art since high school and delighted in Bridget Quinn's BROAD STROKES. How wonderful now to add PORTRAIT OF A WOMAN to my bookshelves and to hold it in my head. Beyond the gorgeous artwork, the prose is skillful and captivating and transporting. I immersed myself in this 18th century reclamation and only wish I could have stayed longer.
This was a fascinating history of a rival of Vigée Le Brun, who, while lesser known, is equally as talented. While her opinions and modern thinking erased her from history to some extent, her talent and expertise in what she did remain in her paintings, which can still be viewed in museums in the U.S. and France.
3.5 stars. I enjoyed learning more about Adelaide Labille-Guiard. Since she did not leave behind any written record of her life, the author “imagines” conversations and scenes that may or may not have happened in the artist’s life. I struggled with that but could tell the author is passionate about her subject.
Adélaïde’s story is important and needs to be told, but this book was a bit disjointed and dry. The format implied there would be a lot of art and visual references, but it did not include very many. I wanted to see more of her art. I also felt the author took a bit too much creative license in what was supposed to be a nonfiction book.
Bridget Quinn combined expert historical research with informed and imaginative speculation to deliver this beautifully written biography of a little-known French painter. I was enchanted from start to finish.
This is one of my favorite books so far this year.
The life of the female artist has always been a struggle. Quinn depicts the incredible obstacles that Labille-Guiard faced in 18th-century France. Quinn's research means the specificity of detail and the feeling of immersion in this time period is complete.
Love a strong woman in revolutionary France! Especially appreciate how the author brings life to a story with little primary sources available- I really feel like I know Adelaide.
This was an honestly really well done biography that siutates itself in individual scenes set against scenes from her rival's memoirs, and as analysis of the paintings she left behind. Well written, and well framed as well.
I was soooo excited for this one! I love Bridget Quinn, I love art history, and I love feminism, and Quinn knows how to deliver on all counts. When she slips into a conversational, informal style, this is when I love Quinn’s writing the most.
This book was a bit of an indulgence for this author who clearly has been waiting decades to write it. Unfortunately, there is very little that exists about Adelaide Labille-Guiard, so there isn’t much source material to support a full memoir; we are left with a fair bit of projection and supposition.
I did enjoy following the life of the artist and learning how that coincided with, and was influenced by, the politics of the time. We also learn how she, as a female artist, used portraiture as a way to form allegiances in the male dominated art world.
Was it the greatest, most complete and compelling memoir? No. Do I love this author’s work enough to support her personal indulgence? Yes. Will I keep reading anything she writes? Also yes.
I think Adélaïde Labille-Guiard is a fascinating woman. She lived through so much turmoil, and created breathtaking works of art. If I wasn't so enamored of Artemisia Gentileschi I would probably say that Labille-Guiard was my favorite painter. There are great differences between their work, primarily as Labille-Guiard was mainly a portraitist, and Gentileschi painted allegorical scenes, but the depth of their work and the exquisite detailing is comparable. I was very interested in reading about Labille-Guiard's life as I was only familiar with her work, though I was aware that she was the official portraitist of the French royal court. Bridget Quinn does state that there was not a great deal of information about Labille-Guiard available and so she also prominently featured Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun in this book as well. On one hand this makes sense as to the French public (and Vigee Le Brun) they were rivals; however I feel that there was too much information about Vigee Le Brun in this book. Quinn includes excerpts from her letters and vignettes about her life--it almost feels that she wanted to write about Labille-Guiard, ran out of information, and added Vigée Le Brun as filler.