January 25, 2021
The signage in Gallery 616 at first strikes me as annoyingly politically correct - it's mostly about French women painters of the 18th century. I have to confess, though, that the text turned out to be pretty interesting and instructive. First off, the only woman painter of the period whose name I knew beforehand was Elisabeth Louise Vigee Le Brun; I learned that there were a number of others. Second, women were constrained in the subjects they could paint: They were thought unworthy of executing history paintings (the most exalted genre, in the eyes of the Royal Academy) and relegated to painting still lifes and portraits. Third, only four women at a time were admitted to the Royal Academy. Fourth, works by women were generally considered inferior to those of their male counterparts. (Looking around this gallery, I would be hard-pressed to claim that the paintings by women painters were superior to those of the male painters on exhibit, but they're not worse, either.) Finally, the French Revolution had a liberating influence on women painters, giving them new respect and the freedom to paint a greater variety of subjects.
The work I like best was painted by a man, Joseph Siffred Duplessis. It's a 1776 portrait in oil on canvas, perhaps 40" high and 36" wide. of Madame de Saint-Marys, whose husband was a key patron of Greuze and a major collector of Old Master drawings. What I especially like is that the subject, shown seated and in three-quarter view, appears cheerful, amiable, and indisputably corpulent; the artist has made no effort to disguise her double chin. Madame de Saint-Marys was only 34 at the time the portrait was made, but she lived to be 82, so apparently her excessive avoirdupois didn't unduly shorten her life. I admire the skill with which Duplessis shows the lace sleeves of her gown. Her rosy cheeks and lips appear to be the exact same pink color as the large bow at her bodice. She sits against a dark crimson drape, which further enhances the warmth of the portrait.
The second painting, by Adelaide Labille-Guiard is a very large (perhaps 76' high and 60" wide) 1785 self-portrait of the artist seated at her easel while two pupils, Marie Gabrielle Capet and Marie Marguerite Carreaux de Rosemond, look over her shoulder. It's hard to believe that Labille-Guiard had any interest whatsoever in painting her students; they are simply attired and not very individualized. On the other hand, she obviously took great care in painting the sumptuous sheen of her own blue-gray satin dress and the feathery plumage of her hat. What surprises me, though - and I wonder whether this has been remarked on - is how much the artist's face resembles Rembrandt's images of Saskia, with her curly locks, rosy cheeks, and somewhat hooded eyes. I wonder if Labille-Guiard was in some way comparing herself with that master portraitist.
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