10/22/18

National Portrait Gallery Part One: Art Road Trip

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Most art lovers who find themselves in Washington, DC seldom venture very far. That’s understandable, given that you can take in five major art museums without straying from the National Mall. But if you wander four blocks up 8th Street from the National Gallery of Art, you’ll come to an underappreciated gem: the National Portrait Gallery (NPG). Don’t be put off by the name; there’s a whole lot more there than stiff formal portraits. I’d even go so far as to suggest that it's one of the best places in the city to get (ahem!) a good picture of America. 

In Part Two I’ll discuss some of the more unusual things you’ll find at the NPG, but first let’s consider lessons embedded within the namesake images of well-known people, beginning with those who have served as President of the United States. Many of these provide insight into the character of the individual represented and the times in which they served. I will skip most of the early portraits, as images of Washington, Jefferson, Jackson, and other such figures are precisely the ones you’ve seen in textbooks since the time you were in primary school. I was, however, quite taken with a Lincoln portrait painted by George Peter Alexander Healy. It shows Lincoln chin on hand, as if he were pondering the nation’s future. That’s exactly what he was doing. Remember that seven Southern states had left the Union before Lincoln even took office. No president other than Franklin Roosevelt ever faced such perilous burdens or had a shorter honeymoon transition period.

Lincoln conveys thoughtfulness; FDR opted for confidence. FDR gazes at us with sphinx-like steeliness, a strong leader to guide Americans through the Great Depression. If the splotch of red behind him seems hagiographic, you have but to read accounts from the legions of ordinary Americans who saw Roosevelt as a secular savior. Artist Douglas Chandor used FDR's trademark cigarette holder to contrast his imperial cape and suggest folksiness that resonated with the era’s appeal to ordinary Americans.


Official portraits are often an assemblage of impression, pageantry, stagecraft, and ego. Sometimes they offer unintended psychological insights, or eerily foreshadow fate. Elaine de Kooning painted John F. Kennedy in loose brushstrokes and splotches that give an impression of JFK, not a spitting image. She painted Kennedy in 1963, and it’s hard not to think of Dallas when one sees the tattered texture about Kennedy’s head. The intended message was that JFK heralded a new era and a new spirit. That was the case, but not in the ways anticipated, and de Kooning's (deliberately) indistinct brushstrokes now evoke a torn body and faded hope.

If you wonder if Richard Nixon had a soft spot, the answer is maybe. Norman Rockwell’s image suggests there is one. It’s a surprisingly tender look at a guy almost no one associates with such a quality. Like FDR, Ronald Reagan wanted to invoke the common man. Aaron Shickler’s portrait is very Rockwell-like and shows Reagan in a blue work shirt, as if ready to dispense backwoods wisdom. Anyone familiar with Reagan nostrums knows that’s exactly what he often did.




On the other hand, the terms ego and Bill Clinton interlock like the bubbles of a Chuck Close painting, which is precisely who painted him. The portrait is huge and you can draw your own conclusions from that. I also found it unflattering in cartoonish ways suggestive of clownishness. Is that also telling?



The star of the hall right now is Barack Obama, painted in the style of an African chief by Kehinde Wiley. It’s simultaneously formal and relaxed. You can snap a shot of it from the side, but if you want to stand directly in front for a selfie, be prepared to queue for about 45 minutes. I heard no grumbling, though I did see tears, smiles, and genuine outpourings of respect. The Obama portrait is unique, even if it’s not your cup of tea. I can’t imagine we shall see such enthusiasm when #45 is hung on the wall.




To round off Part One, a few comments are in order on the differences between men and women in high places. There is a quiet dignity to the robed figures that make up the entire pantheon of female Supreme Court Justices. These individuals radiate competence and seriousness—more as if they just want to get on with their jobs rather than casting lines upon the waters of reputation.  Eleanor Roosevelt’s portrait looks a bit like that as well. She has a Mona Lisa-like smile, but she also looks as if she has just come in from puttering about the gardens of her Val-Kill retreat. 



You’ve probably seen the famed painting of Marian Anderson, but it’s even more powerful in person. She looks defiant and strong, as if to say, “You can deny me, but you cannot break me.” If you don’t know what I mean, educate yourself and find out how she and Eleanor Roosevelt said no to racism and turned one of America’s ugly moments into a glorious triumph. I see Anderson and Eleanor as bookend portraits, not to mention examples of American history that is too often left off the table. The Hall of Presidents if history; Eleanor and Anderson represent herstory. 



Currently, one of the NPG’s most controversial portraits is that of Michelle Obama. Many have said that Amy Sherald’s likeness doesn’t look like Mrs. Obama. It doesn’t, actually, but in some ways Sherald succeeded where de Kooning and Close came up short. As we've seen, there's no rule that says an official portrait must look like a painted photograph. The Michelle Obama representation makes more sense if you see it as an icon inspired by African art. Michelle has always been bolder in asserting her heritage than her biracial husband. In this portrait, Obama is both First Lady and mindful of her African heritage. This is Michelle on her own terms. 



Rob Weir

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