The School of Fine Arts of Indochina, from 1924 to the present day: determination, people, oblivion and rehabilitation

Already 101 years since its founding…

Is it enough to just list a few dates?

Important dates? October 27, 1924: Governor General Merlin establishes the school in Hanoi.

• October 9, 1925: The first competitive examination opens with 300 candidates.
• November 6, 1925: The first 10 successful candidates are admitted.
• March 9, 1945: The school closes following the Japanese coup.

The golden years? The 1930s were a significant period marked by several notable events: the arrival of the first graduating class in 1930, the Colonial Exhibition in Paris in 1931, and the World’s Fair in Paris in 1937.

From 1995 to 1996, there were two major exhibitions at Le Bon Marché in Paris: “Le Vietnam des Royaumes” and “L’Âme du Vietnam.” In 1996, Drouot-Paris held a sale of Le Pho’s La Femme du mandarin, which was featured on the cover of the catalog. In 1999, Le Pho’s The Two Sisters (reproduced above) was featured on the cover of the Christie’s Singapore catalog. In 2025, the Philippe Damas collection set 13 world records at Christie’s in Hong Kong.

This would be tedious, incomplete, and, above all, futile. The place of the Hanoi School of Fine Arts in the history of painting cannot be summed up by a gradation of isolated dates, which would be fallacious.

Initially, the École des Beaux-Arts de l’Indochine succeeded in uniting autonomous and sometimes divergent projects to create a genuine art school, bearing an original artistic movement, thanks to exceptional individuals.

However, when it closed on March 9, 1945, the works of its students and teachers were affected by a widespread lack of interest, exacerbated by a dual ideological rejection in both the “metropole” and the “colony”.

Victor Tardieu did not arrive in Vietnam in 1921 in an artistic educational desert. Educational projects (in Hanoi, Hué, around Saigon…) had already been underway for some twenty years, and were both interesting and effective. Painter-travelers have been circulating there, as throughout Indochina, for some forty years.

There was little hope for novelty here. The absence of a local painting tradition and the prevailing backward-looking Confucian mentality, as well as “contemporary” ideologies, were elements that were not inclined to contribute to the construction of a new “school” that was considered inadequate, distant, useless, or dangerous depending on one’s sensibilities.

Tardieu’s genius lay in his ability to use and reconcile these pre-existing elements: the Prix de l’Indochine became a source of teachers for his school; previous schools were useful points of comparison; and the absence of a pictorial tradition presented a rare opportunity to open up a new field for artistic investigation. Confucianism, the prevailing ideology, facilitated the teacher-taught relationship, and the school’s students and graduates assimilated and embodied contemporary ideologies.

Convergence replaces divergence, and the Vietnamese painter (or sculptor) is born.

Convergence replaced divergence: the Vietnamese painter (or sculptor) was born, and it was these enthusiastic individuals who ensured the creation of a School of Art and the emergence of an original artistic movement.

The messianic Victor Tardieu must be associated with dedicated administrators like Martial Merlin, extraordinary teachers like Joseph Inguimberty, and pioneering collectors like the Tholance-Lorenzi couple, motivated animators like Nam Son, and journalists and critics like Baschet who have been won over. There are also willing merchants like Lorenceau and breathtaking students, from Nguyen Phan Chanh to Nguyen Gia Tri.

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This art school gave rise to a genuine artistic movement.

The subtle learning of techniques (oil, silk, and lacquer) and the sense of promotion (everyone was taught how to exhibit and sell their work) created a specific artistic movement in which expressing emotion, depicting the body, and not being confined by place were exacerbated by the shock of colonialism. Two distinct sensibilities quickly emerged in Vietnamese painting: those who left for France sought out the world as their homeland, while the vast majority of artists made their mark on their homeland.

The world or the nation.

These two approaches are neither frontal nor linear. They are both daughters and mothers of ramifications, with the central thread for each student and teacher being the obligation to renew, challenge or affiliate. The careers of To Ngoc Van, Lé Van Dé, Luong Xuan Nhi, Nguyen Gia Tri, Nguyen Cat Tuong, among many others, give us a good idea of what lies beneath the Viet smile.

Following the Japanese coup on March 9, 1945, the École des Beaux-Arts de l’Indochine physically ceased to exist.

This was followed by a growing lack of interest, exacerbated by ideological rejection.

In France, the serious economic difficulties of the post-war period persisted. We all too often forget that it wasn’t until December 1, 1949, that the last ration coupons disappeared and the High Commission for Food Supply was abolished. So it’s easy to understand why there was less interest in art, especially as the market for it was moving to New York. This was particularly true of Vietnamese art, as the idea of Empire had come to an end, and anti-colonial ideology had imbued personal mentalities, dislocated groups and weakened institutions. Vietnam and its productions, whether direct or indirect, are no longer a place of desire, and “difficult” years lie ahead for Vietnamese artists in France, despite a few tentative exhibitions.

In Vietnam, disapproval will prevail over indifference.

From 1954 onwards, the communist North institutionalised ‘socialist realism’ and its artists under orders. They were propagandists in the maquis, and they would remain so as ideological supporters of the regime. Otherwise… Their works would suffer drastically from this development. One need only observe the decline in talent at that time of Nguyen Phan Chanh and Luong Xuan Nhi, among others, to be convinced of this.

South Vietnam gradually became Americanized, and the principles of the French school system were diluted until the communist unification of 1975, when the same criteria were imposed as in North Vietnam.

By the early 1990s, the outcome was clear: the Indochina School of Fine Arts was, at best, forgotten, and, at worst, disowned.

However, a gradual recovery will take place, mainly driven by the market, first in France and then in Asia, in Singapore and Hong Kong.

To summarize the situation in 1991, I was an expert at Drouot, which was then the third largest auction house in the world. I specialized in “Far Eastern art,” as it was called at the time. I loved Chinese and Khmer art and Thai sculpture, as well as Vietnamese art. While Dong Son bronzes and ceramics, known at the time as “Tan Hoa,” and certain “blue-white” pieces attracted modest interest from a few enthusiasts, Vietnamese paintings did not interest many people. They languished, gathering dust in a few old French households and ignored by public collections.

It took faith on my part, but developing my knowledge of this art was a labor of love.

In 1992, I began including several Vietnamese paintings in my sales, gradually attracting the first collectors, all of whom were European. Among them were my friends Michaël Edwards-Ker and Nick Scheeres.

I curated three major exhibitions that were milestones: the two exhibitions at Le Bon Marché in Paris (mentioned in the introduction) in 1995 and 1996, followed by the exhibition at the Royal Museum of Mariemont in 2002. These exhibitions attracted huge audiences.

I joined Christie’s in Singapore in 1996 while I was based in Paris, and the market was shifting. Notable initiatives continued in France, such as those of Adjugart and Yves Cosquéric in Brest. In 2003, they presented the collection of Ambassador Bastouil, for which I was the expert, including works by Bui Xuan Phai. From early 1997 to the present day, I have had the honor of appraising works from the collections of Alix Tardieu, Michel Inguimberty, Philip Ng, Tholance-Lorenzi, Tuan Pham, Ngo Manh Duc, Jean-Marc Lefèvre, and Philippe Damas at Sotheby’s and Christie’s in Singapore and Hong Kong, not to mention those whose anonymity I respect.

Green Harmony: The Two Sisters, by Le Pho, reproduced above, is a beautiful gouache and ink on silk (58 x 45 cm) that perfectly captures the atmosphere of an era. Purchased at Drouot by my friend Nick Scheeres to entrust to me at Christie’s in Singapore, it was featured on the cover of the catalogue dated 28 March 1999. It was purchased by the Singapore Museum. An amusing detail: it was not signed, even though it had been exhibited at Joly-Hessel in Paris in 1943 (catalogue, number 25)… It was therefore 60 years after its creation that Le Pho signed it… on the back, at his home on Rue de Vaugirard.

In 2025, 33 years of hard work resulted in the undeniable rehabilitation of Vietnamese painting.

This has been reflected financially in the creation of an annual USD 60 million market, in which Christie’s is the world leader. Intellectually, it has been accompanied by studies and events that have been unsuccessful or insipid, as well as by opportunistic endeavors that are worthy of mockery.

Success in the years to come is not guaranteed. In addition to the general phenomenon of the fragility of taste in art, which cannot be controlled (remember that Caravaggio, among many others, was completely forgotten until his rehabilitation by Roberto Longhi in 1926), Vietnamese painting suffers from particular harmful trends that remain to be counteracted.

• Among these is a poor, backward-looking and superficial interpretation of Vietnamese art in France and Vietnam, due to a lack of scholarship.
  
• In Vietnam, the sociological culture of counterfeiting, based on political mentality and persistent poverty.
  
• In France: entryism, both foreign and indigenous, within public institutions, which is gradually and insidiously spreading.
  
• An auction market infiltrated, even though the players, wary, have begun to react.
  
• A very low level of erudition supported by late grafts and their appendices.
  Without any skills, they claim to be experts, preying on naive beginners and polluting social media. Specialists dismiss this as mere background noise, but any music lover knows that unwanted noise can ruin a concert.
  
• Auction results are published nonetheless, but they are often distorted.
  Ask an artist’s beneficiary how much they receive from ADAGP for works listed as “sold.” Since ADAGP is a reputable organization, this illustrates the discrepancy between its boasts and the reality of the market.

Nevertheless, there are two glimmers of hope: the “solid” collections built up in Vietnam over the last twenty years and the major works that have returned to Asia. These collections will serve as references for an enthusiastic, knowledgeable, and combative youth who will be able to free themselves from the vicissitudes of time locally.

Jean-François Hubert