O, wonder!
The Tempest V.i
How many goodly creatures are there here!
How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world,
That has such people in’t.
I thought of Miranda’s exclamation while visiting the “Fashioned by Sargent” exhibit now on display at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston (transferring soon to the Tate Britain). What a world, to have such paintings in it!
But, as in this portrait of Mrs. Fiske Warren and her daughter, it’s not usually the people I find compelling. I’m not so much interested in the character of the mother and daughter here as I am in losing myself in the liquefaction of those fabrics. Old masters might have painted the face and hands of a subject while assigning the details of clothing to their assistants, but Sargent’s true gift lies in those beautiful surfaces, how he brings the clothing itself to life.
And perhaps it’s Frans Hals, the old master Sargent admired most, who provides a clue to these paintings. Sargent once told a student: “Begin with Frans Hals, copy and study Frans Hals. After that go to Madrid and copy Velázquez … leave Velázquez till you have got all you can out of Frans Hals.”
As with Sargent, Hals’s portraits can be stunning in their surface excitement—and simultaneously lacking in the human depth one finds in the greatest portraitists, such as Rembrandt or Holbein. As The Guardian critic Jonathan Jones writes about the current Hals exhibit at the National Gallery in London, “Hals’s endless playful variations on pose, facial expression, hair and costume rarely communicate – or to be honest, never communicate – the person within.”
To be sure, Jones’s is the minority voice, and I look forward to seeing the Hals exhibit myself when I’m in London later this month. But I found myself thinking of his criticism as I made my way through the embarrassment of riches at the MFA. Beautiful as these paintings are, only occasionally do we glimpse a vital, living presence within the gorgeous gowns.
Lady Agnew of Lochnaw is an exception. Here Sargent portrays a woman looking back at him with an appraising look every bit as piercing as the painter’s own scrutiny of her must have been. I returned repeatedly to this painting during my visit, my eye moving back and forth from her intense gaze to the exquisite lavender sash around her waist to the elegant flowered chair she commands with a loosely draped arm.
Also fascinating to me was a quick sketch he made of his friend Vernon Lee. Lee, a feminist who dressed à la garçonne, was not one to wear elaborate finery, and Sargent’s painting reveals not her clothing but her lively intelligence. It’s a snapshot of a woman with no time or patience for striking a pose, and her somewhat asymmetrical open mouth is on the verge, no doubt, of saying something incisive. A short story writer and essayist on aesthetics, perhaps she is about to share her thoughts on her friend’s paintings.
And then there’s Helen Sears. The beauty and elusive mood of this portrait pull me into the mysterious world of a little redheaded girl, reminiscent for me of my mother as a small child. Her abstracted air as she tenderly handles that explosion of hydrangeas: might she be gazing into an imaginary world of her own, one whose inner beauty matches the glory of Sargent’s surfaces?
Appreciate the thoughtful commentary. Helped shaped my perception.
I enjoyed revisiting these paintings through your words. It occurred to me as I was looking at the paintings you’ve posted that Sargent’s treatment of children often seems more sympathetic and penetrating than his portraits of adults.
That’s an interesting observation. The two girls in these portraits may be wearing fine dresses, a kind of armor, like their mothers, but their faces haven’t yet taken on the guarded quality I see in the society women.
He is a magician with textiles. Also in watercolors which we saw at the Worcester Art Museum about 6 months ago, from its permanent collection, done during time spent in Florida.