Line Vautrin (1913-1997)

As is often heard about an artist of unfettered originality, she or he has likely lacked a predisposition for managing the business end of art. This is true of Parisian born Line Vautrin, who, while unquestionably ambitious enough to initiate her own business in 1933 before even turning 21 years old, struggled for recognition and success during those early years. The actuality of Vautrin’s talent, vision, and creat-ivity vis a vis her lack of commercial connect-ions did not in any way blunt her passion but fueled the young artist’s frustration to be recognized. Success did come to her in time.
Early in her career, Vautrin’s vital independence took her, or more likely, impelled her to take to the road, traveling to England as she did with a valise full of bracelets she had designed. She took a huge risk in 1937 when she “hired” a booth at the Universal Exhibition, and succeeded by gaining recognition and popularity. This enabled her to branch into new territory with her ornamental works in bronze, and eventually, to even invent a new resin called Talosel with which to work (Talosel is a resin developed using cellulose acetate – the scientific name for rhodoid. She contrived the term from the French syllables that comprised the substance itself: “aceTAte de celluLOSe ELabore”).

As often as an admirer wonders just how an artist finds her or his way to be labeled a “true original” in a world replete with so much similarity and assimilation, a closer look at an artist’s background may reveal that early environment is a significant influence. This is true in Vautrin’s case.
Vautrin’s father, a founder who had inherited the metal and glass business from his parents, died when she was a teen. It was from him that Vautrin learned the basic elements of engraving and gilding, which then enabled her to leap into a rather whimsical mixed-media presentation of her creations. She would imprint into the bracelets and other accessories that she created early on, bits of poems and sayings that would make singular and resonant her already precious, precise works.
Inventive turns of phrase would make even more particular Vautrin’s works that included brooches, hand mirrors, covered boxes, powder compacts, pillboxes, rings, pendants, dishes, and wall mirrors. Clearly, many of these creations were designed for women, and were embraced not only because of Vautrin’s ever-increasing popularity, but because World War II made many luxuries sparce.
Vautrin had only two “day jobs” before striking out on her own. The first, greeting customers for Schiaperelli, lasted only a few days. The second, as a sales rep for industrial photographs, enabled her to travel around Paris, but she found herself frustrated by being bound to another’s vision rather than her own.

Freedom, above all, was Vautrin’s passion. Coupled with her vision, she had made her own name before she married fellow artist, Jacques-Armand Bonnaud. Four years younger than she, Bonnaud’s Beaux Arts background and theatrical bent helped both of their careers flourish. They set up shop in a private mansion in the then unfashionable Marais district decorated by young Parisian artists and employed over 50 workers to help produce Vautrin’s sought after creations. Wife and husband worked alone in her or his studio simultaneously.
After the War ended and post-War euphoria set in, Vautrin still adhered to her own strict schedule of creating at least one object each day. No matter what was happening around her, politically or personally, her work was what gave her the most joy. In time, she grew tired of the high society in which she had played a palpable role.
They move to Morocco in 1949. In Casablanca, Vautrin opened a new boutique, looking for new sources of inspiration, but after a few years she left Bonnaud and returned to her Paris apartment with her daughter, Marie-Laure.

Back in Paris Vautrin began to work with her own resin, talosel, and thus entered the world of interior design. She focused on creating her famous convex mirrors, tables, and lamp stands – though she never forgot jewelry for long, and event-ually left the business end to teach craftmaking. Vautrin’s daughter, Marie-Laure Bonnaud-Vautrin, joined her mother in this pursuit and is a designer in her own right today, working frequently with talosel herself.

As for Vautrin, she eventually left the public eye, and enjoyed a resurgence in popularity in the ‘80’s, exposing her truly original works to a new gen-eration. In 2004, Yves Saint Laurent designed a perfume bottle of sculpted metal inspired by Vautrin, “the poetess of metal.”