Brett’s Portraits

May 9, 2010

The Barber Institute at the University of Birmingham currently have an exhibition, Objects of Affection, of John Brett’s “Pre-Raphaelite” portraits. Brett, usually only really thought of as a landscape artist, produced a wide range of portraits, many of which seem to be of people he was emotionally engaged with – family and friends, or women with whom he was infatuated. In many ways he is an impressive portraitist: his clarity of conception combined minute attention to detail and texture (familiar from his landscapes) make him a sensitive painter of portraits.

The pencil sketches included in this exhibition are particularly fine – especially as he seems to use his drawing techniques to demonstrate his romantic attachments, concentrating on the eyes and facial expressions of his sitters as well as his Pre-Raphaelite attention to the fall and sheen of fabrics, to patterns and to symbolic backgrounds. For Brett, there’s no doubt that portraiture is an intimate mode, offering a side of him not seen in his landscapes – although, as Waldemar Januszczak suggests in today’s Sunday Times, he is certainly more consistent as a landscape painter.

Of course, for me the focus of the exhibition had to be his unfinished 1857 portrait of Christina Rossetti (right) (currently on posters all over Birmingham advertising the exhibition, which pleases me!) There is much speculation about Brett’s potential courtship of Rossetti, and Jan Marsh has suggested that the 1858 poem “No, Thank you, John”, is Rossetti’s rejection of his suit. This might explain why the portrait was never finished; but it remains one of the most beautiful portraits of Rossetti, I think; her deep seriousness and glossy hair may give her the face of a medieval angel, but there is a determination around the set mouth which demonstrates a strong character, and the eyes, appropriately, seem focussed on a heavenly horizon. The exhibition notes suggest that the feather which appears in the background may refer either to her recent poem “My heart is like a singing bird”, or represent a quill as a reference to her poetry. Whatever the relationship between Brett and Rossetti (and whatever his feelings, it is extremely unlikely that she seriously considered him as a potential husband), nonetheless the portrait speaks of affection and trust between the artist and the sitter.


Obama’s People

July 20, 2009

On Saturday I went to see the “Obama’s People” exhibition by Nadav Kander at BMAG, which is on until the end of August. This photographic exhibition of members of the Obama administration is designed to “reflect a radical shift in political power” using portraits of some of the most influential politicians in the world. The exhibition notes state that “Kander bends his subjects into highly constructed facades which appear as cut-outs, ironed flat”. The subjects of the portraits, many of which are life-sized, are all positioned against plain, neutral backgrounds, causing them indeed to appear like cut-outs, but with in many instances a wealth of expression and engagement in their faces and appearances.

The intention, it seems, was to produce portraits which allow the viewer to feel engaged in conversation with the sitters. Actually, I’m not sure I’d want a conversation with some of them. On entering the rRahm Emanuel_006_v1oom, one gets a rather eerie feeling seeing all these powerful people pinned to the wall. The images are quite eclectic, though – some are smiling, their eyes meeting the viewer’s directly and openly, while others look shifty and some, downright miserable. It is noticeable, though, that the women (Susan E. Rice and Hillary Clinton, for example) look more calmly confident and professional than the men, though Joe Biden was looking particularly jolly. Rahm Emanuel (right), perhaps not surprisingly, looks impatient, apparently rolling his eyes, while Ken Salazar presents an odd sight for eyes used to British politicians, in his cowboy hat and bootlace tie.

The “corridor of power” is a feature of the exhibition – a darkened corridor showing images of the Washington monuments at night, and opposite them, the only portrait of Obama himself in the exhibition, lit by a single spotlight and staring dreamily into the distance. The stasis of the image was striking, and overall it simply reminded me of a shrine rather than a portrait of a powerful and energetic man. It’s a very interesting take on the people of whom we will, no doubt, be hearing a lot more.


The face of Shakespeare?

March 12, 2009
I find it very encouraging that in this world of removing apostrophes from street signs (thanks, Birmingham City Council), a potential new portrait of Sshakespeare_500262ahakespeare is still considered important enough to make the front page of the Sunday Times (if not any other paper…) The portrait has been owned by the same family for centuries, unsure of whom it depicted, but new research suggests it is likely to be Shakespeare, painted in 1610 while he was still alive.
It’s great people care enough about Shakespeare to be so interested in what he looked like – but why does it matter? I’m fascinated too; somehow it does matter what our greatest playwright looked like, but why? Of course, the Victorians practised the art of phrenology, believing one could read character in a face, but it’s hard not to be sceptical about this, as another article in the Times has recently suggested.

A generation is growing up now convinced that he looked like Joseph Fiennes in Shakespeare in Love (could be worse, I suppose!) so it’s great that this portrait is newsworthy. Stanley Wells is convinced that this recently discovered portrait is Shakespeare, and his word should be good enough for most people, even Shakespearean scholars (which I am not). It does strike me, though, that all the portraits we have of Shakespeare do look broadly the same, even though we know some were painted by people who didn’t know him. Perhaps the point is that portraiture as an art needs to be done from life in order to capture the essence of a person (or at least we feel that to be the case), and so by viewing a portrait known to be painted from the Bard himself, we feel we can somehow access a bit of Shakespeare-ness. Perhaps this could start a new trend for neatly-trimmed goatees. I think the man himself would have loved it.


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