An auditor student at the Academy of Arts from 1844 to 1851. In 1847, got 2 silver medal. In 1851 awarded the title of class artist painting perspective; in 1855, recognized as "designated"; in 1857 the title of academician for the "View rooms of the Grand pavilion in the Imperial Hermitage". Was the curator of the art gallery of the Imperial Hermitage. (Kondakov)
"..I was in a hurry in the morning to the Hermitage. It was all very important, condescending, handsome doorman in a gorgeous livery, and old, polite staff, and academic Tutukin - one of the curators of the Hermitage.
Peter V. Tutukin was like a necessary part of the Hermitage. He was one of the oldest servants of his, a remnant of the former time, since Nikolaev. In those days he was probably seventy years. Elegant, as the Marquis, it is white, shuffling, little feet, little old man in his uniform, all were very polite, kind, sympathetic.
Once upon a time, early in his artistic life, he drew the prospect of Pompey gallery of the Hermitage. One morning he sat at his easel, absorbed in his laborious art, and heard behind him the steps. Steps majestically slowly approached him. Some strange excitement made the young Tutukina to get close, and he without altering posture, with bated breath, he continued his business. The steps ceased. Someone stopped behind the artist, the excitement which increased with every second. Breath seems to have stopped. It feels like someone leaning over him . you can hear it breath... Ear felt the touch of the sharp end of the... Heart beating, beating. At this point someone says: "well Done!" Steps rang out again. Peter V. raises his heavy eyelids from their own perspective and sees the majestic figure of the retreating Emperor Nicholas Pavlovich. The case soon became a famous Young artist noticed, began to invite him to give lessons at a senior home. And he, such a nice, modest, reserved, began to make his St. Petersburg career as an artist ended years of stay the chief curator of the Imperial Hermitage. Died P. V. Tutukin a very old man, who in those days knew and loved this sweet, absolutely gray-haired old man, gallantly shuffling feet in the magnificent parquet Hermitage hall... " (M. V. Nesterov. Memories)