Day 309 - Courbet Portraits
August 4, 2022
Gallery 809 features nine portraits from the 1850s and 1860s. They are largely works by Gustave Courbet, but also by Fantin-Latour and Carolus-Duran, and by an artist I'd never heard of before, Francois-Auguste Biard, whose bust-length painting of a Black man, nude from the waist up, is a new Met acquisition. Most of the portraits initially strike me as serious and somber, if not lugubrious, with their subjects clad in black against dark backgrounds. (One exception is a Courbet portrait of an opera singer of the period dressed in a bright red tunic for his role in Meyerbeer's opera "Robert le Diable.") A man and woman look cursorily around the gallery, and I hear her say, "None of them look happy," to which her husband [?] comments, "They all look angry/ " So my response is not unique.
The portraits of two women are especially notable. The first, measuring about 40 inches high and 36 inches wide, is of Madame Frederic Breyer (Fanny Helene Van Bruyssel). The description notes that it was commissioned as an engagement portrait by her fiance', a politically progressive doctor. Fanny, who is shown in three-quarter view, was 28 years old at the time. Her face is bony, there are hollows under her eyes, and her shoulder-length hair hangs rather limply. She is, in a word, plain, but also intelligent-looking. The caption notes that the painting remained in the sitter's family until 13 years after her death, when it was purchased by H.O. and Louisine Havemeyer at the recommendation of Mary Cassatt, who presumably esteemed the work.
The second portrait, entitled "Woman in a Riding Habit (l'Amazone)," is slightly larger in format (perhaps 48 inches high and 40 inches wide). The signage notes that women rarely rode horseback during that period, making the painting's subject, whose identity is unknown, emblematic of the modern woman. Her dark bonnet stands out against the sky and immediately draws attention to her pale face, with its downcast eyes and long nose.
A closer look makes me rethink my initial reaction. Both the women are far from conventional beauties, and Courbet made no effort to glamorize them, or even to paint them smiling. The portraits aren't sad or mournful, but they do present their subjects in a realistic, honest manner that sparks the viewer's interest.
I have to ask myself: Would I want to be painted in this way?
Comments
Post a Comment