Mahalia Pauls, “Powerful Portraiture: Baroque Portraits as Images of Self,” BOZetto, Vol. 3, Spring 2015, 1-4. 

 

In the 1980s, British psychologist W. Ray Crozier and his compatriot art historian Paul Greenhalgh conducted research comparing baroque and modern portraiture.  The objective of the study was to discover the types of information a viewer can actually acquire from a portrait about the subject.[i]  The main point was to determine whether baroque or modern portraits more clearly presented personal information about the subject.  In their research, Crozier and Greenhalgh state “the portraiture of the past centuries [Baroque] takes a different stance towards the self: the sitter’s appearance is conventional and reveals role and status”; by contrast the contemporary portrait is supposed to be “a self-presentation” which “reveals personality.” [ii]  I find that Crozier and Greenhalgh’s conclusions are questionable because I can think of a few baroque portraits that do register personal meanings rather than simply parade of rank and power.  By looking at a few self-portraits and royal portraits, I will demonstrate that baroque visual language does accommodate important personal meanings for the subjects. 

 

            The first portrait to be considered is Artemisia Gentileschi’s Self-Portrait as the Allegory of Painting.  Artemisia’s self-portrait was extremely unusual.  The depiction of an artist—let alone a female artist—as the Allegory of Painting was unheard of as it was generally assumed that a male point of view would insure that the beautiful art of painting would be rendered by an ideally painted female.[iii]  Artemisia’s portrait can be read as Crozier and Greenhalgh would expect:  a simple image showing Gentileschi as a talented artist with perhaps intellectual pretensions and nothing more.  Mary Garrard has argued against this reading to ascribe to Artemisia a deeper and more personal intention in her self-portrait.  Garrard insists that Artemisia was extremely intentional in her choice of attributes:  the description of Painting’s gown becomes a vehicle for Artemisia to show “her own interest in and command of color…and perhaps even to take a position as well on a continuing controversy of art theory, aligning herself as she does with colore over disegno.”[iv] This adds a personal and introspective aspect to the portrait, lending some of Artemisia’s own feelings about her craft.  In alluding to her own opinions on colore, Artemisia created a self-portrait that displays a personal idea about the subject beyond the conventional role and status.  The composition of Artemisia’s Self-Portrait also functions to “evoke the contrast between Theory and Practice.”[v] Her raised right arm represents theory and her resting left arm is meant to evoke practice.  The two concepts intersect and are metaphorically “joined in the mind of the artist…the head of Artemisia Gentileschi.”[vi] Thus, Artemisia Gentileschi’s Self-Portrait as the Allegory of Painting functions as a treatise on her ideas about art.  The portrait shows her opinions of colore as well as the debate between theory and practice.  While Artemisia’s personality may not be revealed in the portrait, her opinions on important and relevant debates are.  All of these intellectual elements seem to contradict Crozier and Greenhalgh’s theory on the baroque portrait being strictly conventional and not including aspects of self-presentation. 

 

            Artemisia Gentileschi’s Self-Portrait is not the most extreme baroque portrait when it comes to displaying personality and intimate aspects of the subject.  The now lost image of Henry IV’s The Choice of Hercules is an even better example of a seventeenth-century portrait that contained personal information on the subject.  Edmund Dickerman and Anita Walker use descriptions of the painting combined with historical documentation to demonstrate how the image would have been more than propaganda.  The Choice of Hercules would have been an image of the “heroic self-construct” Henry wanted to promote and he would thus have identified with it deeply.[vii]  The image of Hercules as a symbol for male heroism and virtue has a long history, so it is unsurprising that the King of France would choose to identify with him.  However, according to Dickerman and Walker, Henry IV would have felt a more personal identification with Hercules than simply as a symbol of aristocratic male values.  Dickerman and Walker state that “[v]ice is represented by two exemplars, excessive sexual pleasure, signified by Venus, and the image of gambling.”[viii]  The use of excessive sexual pleasure and gambling as images of vice is not unusual, but both images seemed to have had personal resonance with Henry IV.  In 1607 Henry IV wrote to the trusted Duke of Sully “I shall leave mistresses, dogs, birds, games, gambling…and all other expenditures of pleasure and pastimes, rather than lose the least chance and opportunity to acquire honour and glory.”[ix]  The combination of this text and the specific use of Venus, representing mistresses, and gaming, representing gambling, indicate the portrait would have had a great personal meaning as well as a political one to Henry IV.  The portrait was more than an image displaying heroic values.  The scene would have been a constant reminder to the king of the vows he had made to Sully. [x]  This is again in direct contrast with the earlier assumptions that baroque portraits only show the status and role of the subject.  While the reminders of the king’s own troubles would not have been noticeable to the common viewer, they still existed for many of his courtiers.  The painting displayed important personal attributes of Henry IV, which spoke to his character as well as his social role and status. 

 

            The final baroque portrait to be examined is that of Queen Christina of Sweden, a woman who used unconventional means to show her status and personal abilities.  Her portrait was unusual for the period because a convention for a powerful woman did not exist and images of royal consorts had little variation.[xi] Christina chose to forgo portrait conventions that properly displayed her status and personal achievements, preferring instead an equestrian image intended for Philip IV of Spain.  The equestrian is a typical form of royal portraits in which the men always appear dynamic and the women self-contained.  However, Christina chose a dynamic pose on a rearing horse, focusing on her ability to maneuver the animal (as she did in real life).[xii]  By showing the ruler firmly in control of a rearing horse the artist was able to symbolize Christina’s physical and moral bravery as the leader of Sweden during a period of endless warfare on the Continent.  Thus, the whole image is a metaphor for her “capacity to maintain full command of the Swedish realm in spite of her womanly condition.” [xiii]  Her calm demeanor also alludes to her philosophical inclinations as a follower of Neo-Stoicism, which stressed self-discipline, emotional control, and rationality.[xiv]  All of the unconventional symbolism culminates in a royal portrait that intentionally expresses both Christina’s status as the powerful ruler of Sweden and her personal philosophy and horsemanship. Thus, once again, Crozier and Greenhalgh’s claim about the distant nature of baroque portraiture is refuted. While the modern subject’s personality may be portrayed in unexpected ways in a portrait, the baroque subjects dare accompanied by suggestions of personal characteristics

 

 Pauls

 

Figure 1.  Mahalia Pauls, Self-Portrait as

Allegory of Academia, 2014. Pencil on paper.

 

This idea that baroque portraiture can represent more than an individual’s social role and status, can have multiple levels of meaning (including personal aspirations and ideas) is what inspired my own Self-Portrait as the Allegory ofAcademia (figure 1).  According to the English edition of Cesare Ripa’s Iconologia, Academy is symbolized by a heroic woman in a gold crown, multicolored garment, “a file in her right hand and garland in her left.”[xv]  I chose to adorn myself with the crown of refining knowledge, to hold the file which symbolizes freeing yourself from superfluities, and to grasp the garland to honor those who excel.  I am also adorned with the golden gown, serpent and sphere of Intelligenza; in this way I am able to identify myself as an intellectual and a longtime member of academia.[xvi]  The background contains the winged allegory of Historia on the left, for the focus of my academic study was varying forms of history,[xvii] accompanied by the comely and crowned Lady Italia to the right, representing the instrumental role Italy has played in both my life and my studies.[xviii]  All these allegories represent things I strove for in my personal and professional life.  While some personal information is contained in the selection of these allegorical aspects, the purely personal and individual is contained in a final iconographic element:  a series of ancient coins scattered throughout my hair.  Superficially, the coins act to further allude to my love of history; however, they also encompass an idea of personal importance.  The coins act as a reminder of a poor childhood and all subsequent monetary relations throughout my life.  Thus, the portrait contains vital information about my social role and status as well as personal information about myself.  While the personal meanings, like the importance of the coins or the influence of Italy, may not be readable to any viewer, it is clear that Baroque portraits could have personal and ambiguous elements.



ENDNOTES

 

[i] W. R. Crozier, and Paul Greenhalgh. “Self-Portraits as Presentations of Self,” Leonardo, 21, 1 (1988): 29.

 

[ii] Crozier and Greenhalgh, “Self-Portraits as Presentations of Self,” 31.

 

[iii] Mary D. Garrard, “Artemisia Gentileschi’s Self-Portrait as the Allegory of Painting,” The Art Bulletin, 62, 1 (March 1980), 97.

 

[iv] Garrard, “Artemisia Gentileschi’s Self-Portrait as the Allegory of Painting,” 107.

 

[v] Garrard, “Artemisia Gentileschi’s Self-Portrait as the Allegory of Painting,” 109.

 

[vi] Garrard, “Artemisia Gentileschi’s Self-Portrait as the Allegory of Painting,” 109.

 

[vii] Edmund H. Dickerman and Anita M. Walker. “The Choice of Hercules: Henry IV as Hero,” The Historical Journal, 39, 2 (June 1996), 315-316.

 

[viii] Dickerman and Walker, “The Choice of Hercules: Henry IV as Hero,” 319.

 

[ix] Dickerman and Walker, “The Choice of Hercules: Henry IV as Hero,” 334.

 

[x] Dickerman and Walker, “The Choice of Hercules: Henry IV as Hero,” 334.

 

[xi] Lilian H. Zirpolo, “The Queen’s Predicament: Christina of Sweden as Virgo, Virago, and Femme Philosophe,” Aurora, The Journal of the History of Art, 11 (2010), 57-58.

 

[xii] Zirpolo, “The Queen’s Predicament: Christina of Sweden as Virgo, Virago, and Femme Philosophe,” 61-62.

 

[xiii] Zirpolo, “The Queen’s Predicament: Christina of Sweden as Virgo, Virago, and Femme Philosophe,” 63.

 

[xiv] Zirpolo, “The Queen’s Predicament: Christina of Sweden as Virgo, Virago, and Femme Philosophe,” 64.

 

[xv] Cesare Ripa, Iconologia or Moral Emblems, London: Benj. Motte., 1709, 1, accessed September 10, 2014, https://archive.org/details/iconologiaormora00ripa.

 

[xvi] Ripa, Iconologia or Moral Emblems, 41.

 

[xvii] Ripa, Iconologia or Moral Emblems, 38.

 

[xviii] Ripa, Iconologia or Moral Emblems, 43.