The Allure of Renaissance Portraits

A portrait may have appeared a straightforward commission for a renaissance artist, because after all, a resemblance with a touch of flattery would surely keep a patron happy and lead to bigger more lucrative commissions.  However, some outstanding works were produced in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries and reveal how the best portraits were not just about a likeness but try to convey the character and emotions of a real person.  It wasn’t until the fifteenth century that portraits appeared as a separate entity, rather than as pious images of donors in larger devotional works.  Earlier portraits were based on models from Classical antiquity such as the profiles on Roman medals, but the Renaissance heralded a new representational system in art which helped develop portraiture.  Many artists excelled in the field and I’ve selected a few to discuss, who I find particularly interesting.

The Pioneer, Jan Van Eyck

In this arresting portrait, a man turns his eyes to look directly at us in an intense and authoritative manner.  We feel his scrutiny.  We are struck by the strong contrast between the lighting on his face and the dark background (originally blue) and by his flamboyant headdress, which ensure his face stands out, as well as creating a sense of drama. The man wears a coat with a fur collar which indicates he is prosperous.  To our eyes his headdress resembles a turban, but is in fact a chaperon which was fashionable at the time and would normally have long tails which hang down, but here have been piled up on top and tucked in.  The effect makes the head appear bigger and himself more distinguished.

The work is by Jan Van Eyck (active 1422 – d.1441) and marked the beginning of a new type of portraiture which tried to capture not only a likeness, but something of the sitter’s personality.  Rejecting the traditional profile format, the artist introduced the three-quarter view which showed more of the face along with the structure of the head.  His use of the direct gaze was unique, ’for the first time establishing a dialogue between the model and the observer contemplating the image’. ^[1]Mandel, 2007, p. 38  The portrait shows his skill in using light and shadow to render precise detail and suggest realistic textures.  Particularly striking are the veins on the man’s temple, the crows-feet wrinkles and facial stubble.  It is uncompromising in its desire to be an authentic likeness.

The portrait displays a virtuosic handling of oil paint; indeed, the illusory effects were only possible with this medium.  Traditionally artists used egg tempera which held less pigment and could not be layered in the same way as oil and also dried quickly, making blending colours more difficult.  With oil paint, modelling and colour effects were achieved by applying transparent glazes over an opaque or semi-opaque underlayer. The tonal range of colours was vast and allowed for a greater degree of naturalism.  In the man’s hat, the brightest colour occurs between highlights and shadow, as it would appear in nature, however, had it been painted in tempera, the richest colour would be in the shadows. ^[2]Dunkerton et al, 1991, p.194  It was largely thanks to Van Eyck that oil paint became the medium of choice for artists in Northern Europe producing a style of painting characterised by minute observation of detail, the rendering of different textures and interest in the effects of light. 

This work is believed to be a self-portrait and may have been intended as a gift or as a personal study.  In general portraits were commissions from members of the ruling classes or wealthy citizens. Portraits at this time were typically small which meant they were portable and could be hand-held.  They acted as dynastic records, were given as gifts to visitors or used to negotiate marriages.  Van Eyck was official painter to Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy, but despite there being many portraits of the family, none survive by Van Eyck.

Hans Memling and the Business of Portraits

These two portraits were originally part of a triptych, positioned either side of a devotional image.  In many ways they show the influence of Van Eyck in the way the figures project from a simple, dark background and in the masterly execution of textures and details.  The portrait of Tommaso is particularly beautiful. His closely shaven skin has a luminous quality with subtle changes of tone around his features.  The eyebrow hairs and eyelashes are individually drawn, his hair appears soft and his eyes are moist and lifelike. Tiny blemishes can be seen including a pimple on his cheek, a hairless scar on his chin and wrinkles and lines.  The portrait of his wife Maria shows a greater desire to flatter.   A comparison with another image of Maria from the Portinari Triptych by Hugo van der Goes shows a similar physiognomy, but here her face is more rounded and less angular, her skin has a warmer hue, while her eyes are less prominent.  In a not-so-subtle indication of the couple’s wealth, her extravagant necklace draws the eye with its interlacing coils of gold and large gemstones.  The complexity of the design has been expertly handled to give the illusion of shape, texture and weight and the way it lays around her neck has been beautifully observed.  The portraits show a balance of realism with idealization with a result far less uncompromising as that of Van Eyck.

Hans Memling (c.1430/40 – 94) was an extremely successful artist, who was particularly prolific in the field of portraiture – more than a third of his surviving output are portraits.  He was based in Bruges, then the greatest economic centre of Europe with a plentiful supply of international clients, made up of merchants and businessmen and which included Tommaso Portinari the manager of the Bruges branch of the Medici’s bank.  Memling was in the business of portraits, working fast to keep up with demand but still managing to give his clients want they wanted, beautiful images of a very high standard.  He chose a flattering seven-eighth angle for the head, which shows more of the far eye and means the nose doesn’t break the outline of the far cheek.  He ensures the skin appears soft and luminous, while the gaze is indirect and non-confrontational.  He used fewer thin paint layers to achieve some of his effects.  The fur edging on Maria’s dress and her veil have been described minimally, but ‘Memling’s skill is in retaining an effect of depth and richness with […] an amazingly light touch’.^[3]Nash, 2008, p.125  Lifelike, yet gently flattering, who wouldn’t want a Memling makeover?

Raphael’s Harmony and Expression

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These two beautiful portraits by Raphael (Raffaello Sanzio) (1483-1520) are of a fabric merchant Agnolo Doni and his wife, Maddalena.  Their wealthy status is evident by their opulent gold and gemstone jewellery and the sumptuous satin gown worn by Maddalena, with velvet trim and silk brocade sleeves.  The light is clear and natural and comes from the left which impacts each portrait differently.  It means the far side of Agnolo’s face is in shadow and further shadows emphasise the dimple on his chin, his Adam’s apple and the skin folds on his eyelid.  On Maddalena’s face the light shines more evenly creating lighter, contouring shadows that emphasise her features.  There is something particularly captivating about these portraits, not only are we conscious of a sense of expression from the sitters but there is something about the colour and composition that has created a feeling of harmony.

Raphael has paid attention to some key areas which have contributed to the expressive qualities of his subject. This reveals the influence of Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa, in particular the attention paid to hands and facial features.  Leonardo had explored the use of hands not only for formal variety in a composition, but for how they can ‘enrich a sense of interaction with the beholder’.^[4]Campbell & Cole, 2013, p.340  In Raphael’s portraits, hands help to display the Doni’s wealth and status, but the manor of presentation suggests further meanings.  Agnolo’s left hand emerges slightly awkwardly from his sleeve and appears restless as if he’s twitching his fingers and flexing his thumb.  Maddalena’s hands are placed self-consciously together with her left hand protectively cupping her right wrist.  Hands work with facial features to convey expression.  Leonardo believed facial expression largely resides in two features, the corner of the mouth and the outer corners of the eyes.  He deliberately left these areas indistinct, merging lines into soft shadows.  It partly explains the perceived enigmatic expression of the Mona Lisa.  Raphael has made subtle use of this technique.  In these portraits, the treatment of facial features, hands and lighting, work collectively to create natural and expressive portraits.

A feeling of harmony is particular apparent in the portrait of Maddalena and reflects Raphael’s quest for beauty using colour and a balance of forms.  He has used a process of abstraction whereby the contours of her shoulders and breast form an oval, as does her head, while her shoulders and bent arms create a triangle linked by her hands.  The effect is artificial yet graceful.  The coral colour of the dress is picked up on her lips and cheeks.  The brighter foreground colours are balanced by the paler shades of the background (which is continuous behind both portraits).  Unlike the Mona Lisa, there is no mystery about Maddalena, she has ‘an almost palpable material presence’.^[5]Mandel, 2007, p. 88

In another portrait by Raphael, Pope Julius II, appears as a tired and frail old man, lost in his thoughts.  Yet, it was painted the same year that the Pope returned from a second military campaign.  Indeed, Julius was an assertive, authority figure allegedly with a terrible temper, who was responsible for re-establishing Rome as a centre of power.  He was also a significant patron of the arts, initiating the rebuilding of St Peter’s Basilica and commissioning Michelangelo to paint the Sistine Chapel.  Why has Raphael presented a powerful man in this way?  There are elements of status and authority.  The work is large with the figure almost full length.  He sits on a papal throne decorated with acorns which signify his family name – Della Rovere (oak).  The background, which was originally blue but overpainted green by the artist, shows traces of symbols representing the papacy and his family.  He wears an ermine lined velvet cape and his many rings contain red, white and green stones, colours which signify the theological virtues of faith, hope and charity.  Power is present, but the Pope appears sad and pre-occupied.

Pope Julius had many concerns at this time – personal, political and ecclesiastical.  He became ill after the loss of Bologna to the French and said he would remain unshaven until they had gone, hence his beard (which is forbidden by canon law).  It is likely that after his defeat, he commissioned the work as an ex voto in which he wished to be presented as a penitent who seeks grace and forgiveness – but it was not necessarily meant for public display.  However, it is also possible that the increasingly elevated status of artists meant they had more autonomy and Raphael may have had more liberty to paint as he wished.  Raphael’s work reflects troubled times, it is a compelling portrait that expresses what it means to have power whilst depicting a powerful man as an individual.  This work set the standard for future ecclesiastical portraits, influencing artists including Titian and Velazquez.

Holbein and the Reformation

A merchant is presented at work, surrounded by the tools of his trade.  He looks busy, fiddling with a letter but his eyes are averted to look straight at us, as if he’s been interrupted.  Around him a plethora of objects add to the busyness, including pens, inkpot, money-tin, scissors, balance scales and numerous handwritten notes haphazardly arranged.  These have been meticulously painted in a virtuosic display of skill that follows the Northern European tradition.  There are some interesting anomalies.  The perspective is not quite right because the walls are not at a right angle and the table is not rectangular.  The vase is precariously close to the edge.  At the bottom right the table changes level, leaving the pen stand/money tin balancing on an edge.  Yet this is a carefully constructed portrait full of symbols that reflect the sitter’s identity and philosophy of life.  At the top, disguised as a note pinned to the wall with sealing wax, a latin inscription reads: ‘This picture of Georg that you see records his features … in the year of his age 34, in the year of the Lord 1532’.^[6]Woods, 2007, p.279 This literally spells out the purpose of the painting.

The portrait was painted in England by Hans Holbein the Younger (1497/8-1543) at the time of the Protestant Reformation.  The religious reform movement had major implications for the production of art because it meant there was little demand for religious subject matter.  However, portraiture profited.  Holbein first visited England in 1526 and found there was a demand for foreign skills and many opportunities for an artist, from the royal court, the aristocratic classes and wealthy merchants.  He subsequently made a lucrative career out of portraiture.  This portrait epitomizes Holbein’s style which was essentially realist with an emphasis on attention to detail, capturing a likeness and expressing his interest in symbolism, puzzles and illusions.  The latter could explain the anomalies in this portrait mentioned previously, which are possibly disguised comments on moral issues – the precarious nature of trade, the fragility of life, religious instability – or simply little puzzles that his cultured clientele would appreciate.

There is no better illustration of Holbein’s excellence as a painter of portraits than in his miniatures and in particular this portrait of Thomas Cromwell.  Miniatures could be given as tokens of friendship or love, or by the monarch as a sign of favour and had been introduced to England in 1520’s by the Flemish artist Gerard Horenbout.  Holbein went on to produce many, but this is believed to be his first. Here we see an intelligent and thoughtful man with a turned-up nose, double chin, shrewd eyes and a furrowed brow – clearly the artist does not seek to flatter. Despite the tiny scale, there is careful attention to detail.  Fine brush strokes are used to indicate wrinkles and creases in the skin and to create the texture of his eyebrows and fur collar.  His face is delicately modelled with authentic skin tones and reveals a greying beard shadow.  Cromwell’s wealth is indicated by the fur collar on his coat and possibly by the use of ultramarine for the background which was a very expensive pigment.  For all the complexity in the portrait of Georg Gisze, Holbein shows his greatest skill in the rendering of this simple but sophisticated image, one that appears to capture the very essence of the man.

The Psychological Realism of Moroni

What a handsome man and what an extraordinary portrait.  He looks straight at us with a penetrating and charged expression.  He leans forward over the table, but the subtle lift and tilt of his head in our direction suggests he has been interrupted at work.  It is an unidealized portrait of a skilled worker.  His clothes are elegant, but do not represent wealth, unlike the black cloth he is poised to cut.  We don’t know what he’s thinking but we keep looking, mesmerised by the psychological intensity of the portrait.

Giovanni Battista Moroni (c. 1520/24 – 1579) was a master at creating atmosphere.  In this work the simple, plain background eliminates any distracting elements, but is given character through controlled light which creates shadowy depth.  He has made use of diagonal lines, for example the edge of the table cuts across the bottom of the canvas obliquely and a further line is created running down from the shadow on the wall at the top left, down his left arm to his hand at the bottom right.  These create an energy that interrupts the stillness.  Moroni has created atmosphere through his painting technique.  He realistically depicts details including the scissors, ruff and belt but what is striking is the softness of his brushwork.  Here he shows the influence of Titian and the Venetian school which did not rely on linear contours (characteristic of the Florentine tradition) instead, outlines were dissolved in pure colour and light, an effect called tonalism which creates a natural realism.  Moroni has modelled with layers of translucent colour and light effects, which work with a light brushstroke to create soft and delicate hair and skin.  Some areas, such as the corners of the eyes are completely dissolved, the nostril is a smear of pure red.  He doesn’t need to paint every detail, just the essence of what is there and our brain fills in the rest.

This family portrait has a similar psychological intensity but this time there are two pairs of eyes scrutinizing us.  A gentleman sits casually, leaning with his elbow on the table and embraces his children.  It is as if he has been interrupted from reading a letter by the unexpected appearance of his children who have come into the room to see him. It is an informal scene, one that we also appear to have interrupted.  We have questions. Who is this family and where is the mother? What is the significance of the letter on the table?  Why is the setting so spartan with little of interest other than two old books on a shelf?

The portrait is both informal and serious.  The informality is due to the naturalness of the composition and gestures. Along with the casual pose, Moroni has used their hands to convey expression.  The gentleman’s hands are lightly cupping the children’s shoulders, connecting them with him and suggesting paternal protection.  The hand of his daughter on the left, is open with her fingers reaching out as if wanting to touch him, perhaps for a feeling of security.  The small boy on the right shows a childish preoccupation with a rattle.  Yet their facial expressions are quite serious and thoughtful. The father and daughter gaze directly at us and while she appears unabashed, his eyes and raised brows are highly expressive and penetrating.  Their faces are in part-shadow leaving areas less distinct which evokes a sense of mystery, while the focus on a single eye feels slightly disconcerting.  The effect of the painting technique is realistic, but close inspection shows how tones and colours melt into each other.  Fine brushstrokes pick out details such as the prickly edge of the white ruffs and the children’s tiny curls.  Personally, I think the painting of the head of the girl is simply exquisite.  In this portrait Moroni has depicted the family with great sensitivity and given us just enough information to suggest a story, whilst leaving much ambiguity.  

Moroni worked in and around Bergamo in northern Italy, producing works for local clients which included the local aristocracy, bourgeoisie, professionals and soldiers.  He wasn’t ever part of a main centre for art and maybe that is the reason his portraits appear unique, – atmospheric, sensitive, psychological and natural.

A Golden Age

I have found this such an interesting subject to write about.  Not only have the selected portraits revealed the great skill of the artists in achieving realistic looking physiognomies, but they’ve also shown how artists strove to inject into their work a sense of expression and personality.  The different approaches each artist had to portraiture has resulted in exceptional works of art that truly support the notion of the Renaissance being a golden age for portraiture.

Bibliography

Campbell, S.J. & Cole, M.W. (2013), A New History of Italian Renaissance Art, London, Thames & Hudson

Dunkerton, J. et al. (1991), Giotto to Durer: Early Renaissance Painting in the National Gallery, New Haven and London, Yale University Press/London, National Gallery Publications.

Mandel, N., (2007), Portraits of the Renaissance, New York, Assouline Publishing

Nash, S., (2008), Northern Renaissance Art, New York, Oxford University Press Inc.

Woods, K.W., (2007), ‘Holbein and the reform of images’, in Woods, K.W., Richardson, C.M. & Lymberopoulou, A. (eds.) (2007) Viewing Renaissance Art, London/Milton Keynes, Yale University Press/The Open University.