pheelyks
Jun 10, 2009 | #1
Covert Portraits: Fun and Function
Since man first began to paint on the walls of ancient caves and carve rudimentary forms from wood and stone, the representation of the human form has been one of the most intriguing to many artists in almost all periods of art. For the cavemen, the female figure was generally an object of greater interest-at least, it was more often represented, and with greater levels of sophistication-but gradually, as men and masculinity came to dominate Western society (and as the depiction of women grew, at times, somewhat riskier), the male figure also came to dominate works of art. Over time, of course, such depictions grew in realism and in detail; the rudimentary works of prehistoric mankind could never distinguish a specific individual-the level of detail is simply not great enough to convey individual features. Gradually, however, portraiture was born.
From at least the time of the Ancient Greeks, and through every age of art history and civilization since, the representation of real, living people in works of art has been a hugely common practice, so much so that it almost seems to require no mention-it is simply one of the givens of the art world. Powerful leaders and wealthy merchants have had their portraits painted, or busts or even full statues of themselves made, for at least the several millennia of recorded history. Such portraits were-and are-often intended to glorify the individuals depicted within them as overt signs of respect, admiration, and often commemoration of a certain milestone or achievement. But this is does not necessarily paint the entire picture of the practice and history of portraiture.Portraits are such a common occurrence and feature of artistic works that the subject themselves seem to fade in importance to the artistic hands and techniques that created any individual work of portraiture. In most instances, this approach does not have any real drawbacks; the artistic technique employed in a particular portrait is often more interesting than the subject, as even the greatest artists have taken the work that paid them, and anyone with money could have their portrait painted. There are times, however, when the subject of a painting is at least as important in some regards as the artist and techniques that created it. This is true of overt portraits, but is arguably even more true of covert portraits-representations of real people in disguise.
There are several clever examples of such covert portraiture. Serving somewhat as "in-jokes" with artists and their friends and even the wider community, such plainly hidden portraits could be intended as honorifics or as insults, depending on the context of the painting, the real-life situation being paralleled, and of course the relationship between the painter and the subject of such secretive portraits. One might even argue that such paintings are not true portraits at all; when one figure is represented as another, it could be claimed that both figures are transformed into something else entirely, standing for the constituent parts only in a symbolic fashion. On the other hand, the specific figures referred to here are as "covert portraits" are unquestionable representations of real individuals with whom the artists were familiar standing in as other historical or religious figures. The question is complex, but an examination of some specific examples of this type of covert portraiture will perhaps lead to an understanding of how they function as portraits, and if they function as other things, too, while providing a greater understanding of the work as a whole.
One such painting with a hidden portrait in it is Jean Fouquet's "Virgin and Child with Angels, " painted around 1450. The painting is an interesting take on a common theme; depictions of the Madonna with the infant Jesus abound throughout medieval and Renaissance painting, often with several angels also depicted in the scene, but there are some distinctive features about this example. For one, the number of angels and the specifics of their depiction are both quite unusual-the multitude that crowds around the throne upon which the Virgin is sat are monochromatic, in wither red or blue. Most interesting, however, are the proportions of the Madonna and the child on her knee, which coupled with the identity of the hidden portrait is especially intriguing.
It is rumored that the model for the Madonna in this painting was Agnes Sorel, mistress to King Charles VII of France, and also a lover of the royal secretary Chevalier who was Fouquet's first patron at the French court (Pioch par. 5). This complex relationship lends itself to many varying interpretations as to the meaning and even the function of this painting and its representation of Sorel. As a portrait, it is not incredibly successful-the downward leaning head and downcast eyes of the subject obscure the figures identity and beauty to a degree. As a statement of other sort, however, this painting could mean many things. It is unlikely that anyone would have dared to directly insult the mistress of the sitting monarch, but the depiction of Sorel in this work could be a slightly sneaky way to accomplish this. The red angels that surround her are more reminiscent of devils, and her exposed breast could be a reference to her promiscuity.
On the other hand, this could be the artist's attempt to ingratiate himself both with his patron and with higher members of court-perhaps even the king himself. Fouquet did eventually become France's Royal Painter under Louis XI, and his inclusion of the current king's mistress could have been a political move meant to honor this woman and her...patron (Pioch par. 5). There are some details that add a great deal of evidence to this interpretation-the figures breasts are perfectly round, in an exaggeration of the body conforming to the ideals of feminine beauty. Her other features, from her narrow waist to her small mouth and slender neck, are also subtly exaggerated to similar effect. The choice to place her in a richly jeweled throne and crown could also indicate her worthiness of royalty, at least insofar as the royal bedchamber is concerned. Regardless of the exact interpretation of this painting, it is clear that it is more than merely a portrait-there is some sort of commentary going on here from Fouquet regarding Agnes Sorel, and perhaps even a dialogue between Fouquet and at least on of his intended viewers.
A far more extensive and infinitely more intriguing use of covert portraiture was made by Raphael in his mural School of Athens and the other murals painted on a wall in the massive Vatican compound between 1509 and 1520. There are numerous contemporary figures included as characters from the history of mathematics, philosophy, religion, and politics adorning these frescoes, some of them so detailed that it is actually possible to date the paintings according to Raphael's depiction of known figures (MoodBook par. 5). On instance of this is the beard on Raphale's depiction of Pope Gregory IX, which is one of the details that identifies the figure as a covert portrait of the current Pope at the time of Raphael's painting, Pope Julius II, who rather unusually allowed himself to be portrayed (and who, it is known, did not grow his beard until 1511) (MoodBook, par. 5). The motives here are, thankfully, not as nebulous as they were for Fouquet.
Known for his promulgation of Church doctrine as law, Gregory IX is one of the most respected and revered Popes, and depicting the pope of the current day as this hero of the Church would certainly have been an honorific gesture on the part of the painter. This is in keeping with many of the other secret portraits that Raphael included in his murals, which included many of his friends and colleagues currently making advances in thought and in science during the flourishing of the Renaissance (Phelan, par. 4). Tying these two figures together would be Raphael's way of honoring the Pope, who as the head of the Catholic Church was essentially the over-patron of any commissioned works of art. No doubt he would have been especially involved in artwork tat was to become a permanent feature of the Vatican itself, and it is nearly impossible that this portrait could have been in any way a slight towards the pope or the Church and still have been allowed to exist. Unlike the depiction of Agnes Sorel as the Virgin Mary, which could be seen as both honorific and degrading to the monarchy-if not outright sacrilegious-this depiction was meant in the same way as standard portraits, to show honor and respect.
Vanity has been seen as a sin at least since the founding of the Church, and in many cultures for centuries before that. By secreting certain known and admired people from his time into his works of art, Raphael could very well have been providing honor and fame to these individuals while sidestepping this overt transgression. The striking clarity of Agnes Sorel as the Virgin Mary does not exactly fit into this paradigm, but that only makes the concept of covert portraiture more interesting. Like all other things in art, there are as many techniques and meanings as there are artists and viewers.
Works Cited
Fouquet, Jean. "Virgin and Child with Angels."
MoodBook. Raphael.
Phelan, Joseph. "The Philosopher as Hero." Artcyclopedia. 2002.
Pioch, Nicolas. "Fouquet, Jean." WebMuseum, Paris. 2002.
Raphael. School of Athens.