It’s not like we needed another disturbing example of how change and age can destroy a once vibrant entity, but we got one last week.
In 2023, Chicago’s storied American Academy of Art—training ground for some of the nation’s most influential commercial artists—celebrated its 100th birthday. Last week, a statement posted on the Academy website announced that the college is closing, effective immediately. “The Academy regrets that, after more than 100 years, it lacks financial viability to continue operations,” the unsigned statement said.
Faculty, students, staff, and alumni had been notified a few days earlier by an email from the college president and former owner, Richard Otto.
The announcement blamed the pandemic and sought to frame the school’s demise in a broader context of falling student numbers: “The decision to close comes in response to a significant decline in enrollments following the COVID-19 pandemic, a challenge faced by many educational institutions,” it said.
Arrangements are being made that will allow Academy students to continue their degree programs at Columbia College Chicago. Columbia spokesperson Lambrini Lukidis confirms that “we do have a formal transfer agreement for current students.”
It’s a sad end for a once-beloved institution with a proud history. The American Academy of Art was founded in 1923, when advertising, especially print advertising, was a burgeoning industry and Chicago was its bustling hub. The founders were Frank H. Young, author of a widely used textbook on advertising layout, and popular magazine illustrator Harry L. Timmins. Already partners in a Chicago design agency, they set it up as a privately owned business. In 1970 it was sold to another successful Chicago ad man—and 1937 Heisman Trophy winner—Clinton E. Frank.
Those were glory years for the Academy, which became known for its rigorous traditional art education, with an emphasis on fundamental skills and a focus on portfolio development. A brochure published for the centennial recalled the work of some of the exceptional artists who either trained or taught there, from Haddon Sundblom, who created the red-cheeked, twinkling-eyed Santa Claus featured in Coca-Cola ads globally for decades, and Gil Elvgren’s lushly idealized calendar pinups, to Thomas Blackshear’s postage stamp portraits, Alex Ross’s Superman, and, most recently, Shawn Michael Warren’s Smithsonian-commissioned Oprah.
In 1992, the Academy was sold to Otto, who continued to run it as a private business until 2015, when it converted to a nonprofit, with Otto maintaining his presidency. Located at 332 S. Michigan, it is accredited by the Higher Learning Commission.
Former Reader photographer Robert Drea was recruited to create the Academy’s photography major in 2007 and has taught there ever since. He says peak enrollment during his time there was about 425, but, especially since the pandemic, the number has dwindled. “We had a President’s Award day in March 2020,” Drea says. “That very day the dean and the registrar came into all the classrooms and said we can’t do this gathering, can’t have that number of people together in one room. I mark that as being the watershed. I’d say from that point, the enrollment was on a downward spiral . . . empty classrooms and far fewer students.” At this year’s spring commencement ceremony in May, there were only 14 graduates.
“I valued and enjoyed every day that I was there,” Drea says. “It was a really great environment to work in. There was a family feel to it, a great deal of camaraderie. And it was that way until the end, there was still that really positive vibe, even with the specter of ‘Wow, what’s going to happen? There’s so few students.’”
News of the closing prompted former student David Becker to post a video, where he notes that some of “the best teachers” left when the Academy was accredited because they didn’t have the proper teaching degrees, but also that, back in the day, “It was a great portfolio[-building] school,” which is what got him early career jobs at major agencies like J. Walter Thompson and Foote, Cone & Belding. “You worked your butt off” at the Academy, Becker says, but “it was probably the best four years of my life.”
The same sentiment lights up the screen on a public Facebook page maintained by alumni and friends of the American Academy of Art. With word of the closing, it’s a palette of nostalgia, regret, and love.
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