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Glyn Warren Philpot, R.A. (1884-1937), Portrait of
Ellen
Borden Stevenson, oil on canvas, 32 x 24 in., Christie's, London
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Without a doubt, this is how a commissioned oil portrait
should look when painted from life.
What else can one conclude? Just
look at it. The creamy, flawless flesh of
youth is painted to perfection. The
expression is flattering, lively and lifelike, not emotionally dead as in all of today’s
photographically rendered portraits that the public pays darn good money
for. The drawing is excellent and the
details subordinate to the sitter’s lovely countenance. The pale color theme is unobtrusive, soothing
and exquisite. Have you ever seen a
portrait painted in the last 30 years that looked as good? I didn’t think so.
This portrait radiates all the bloom of life emanating
from this beautiful young woman, and it is a look that no photograph could ever
capture. Where and why have we gone
wrong! Who wouldn’t want to try to paint
such a lovely portrait for themselves today?
Is it simply that we lack the ability to paint this well? Are we just not interested in capturing the emotional
state of the sitter in front of us? Has the photograph rendered us incapable of appreciating
natural beauty, the softness of real flesh, the curious, lively gaze of the
sitter as the painter goes about his work, the mouth at its most seductive
transition, the sparkle in the eye, the arched eyebrow that adds such
playfulness and joy to the portrait.
What a nice painting!
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| Glyn Warren Philpot, Self-Portrait |
Glyn Warren Philpot, R.A. (1884-1937) was a highly
accomplished, successful portrait painter in England
in the 1920s and 30s who had studied painting at the Lambeth School of Art in London
and at the Academie Julian in Paris
under J.P. Laurens. After travels to Spain,
his portrait work reflected his love for the paintings of Velázquez. In notes for the auction of this portrait in London
on July 11, a Christie’s specialist writes, “Faced with the young American
girl, Ellen Borden, clad in pale lemon trimmed with gauze, it was not
surprising to find Philpot producing a modern 'infanta'.” Philpot’s contemporaries considered him to be
a masterful craftsman. And critics
celebrated his exceptional ability to capture the sitter’s personality,
particularly in his informal portraiture.
This more formal portrait of Ellen Borden surely must have confirmed that
attribute of his work. Philpot also painted genre studies and religious,
mythological and allegorical subjects, and was a sculptor, as well. Apparently some of his later work was too sexually
explicit for the public and he suffered financially as a result.
In Harold Speed’s outstanding 1924 treatise on the “science
and practice” of oil painting, now titled “Oil Painting Techniques and
Materials,” he lists some palettes of contemporary English painters, and here
is the list of colors obtained from Philpot, right to left, with colors used
occasionally in Italics: Light red,
Indian red, Vermillion, White, Yellow
ochre, Raw umber, Burnt umber, Ivory
black, Cerulean blue, Cobalt, Terra
vert, Burnt sienna. He used copal varnish thinned with turpentine
for his medium and for glazes. And just to
show how serious I am about this technical stuff, I even looked up the
definition of “ultramarine ash,” which Philpot sometimes used for delicate
grays. Here is the 1913 definition, brought
to you courtesy of the Internet: “Ultramarine ash is a pigment which is the
residuum of lapis lazuli after the ultramarine has been extracted. It was used by the old masters as a middle or
neutral tint for flesh, skies, and draperies, being of a purer and tenderer
gray than that produced by the mixture of more positive colors.” But you probably already knew this. Sounds something like Gamblin’s Torrit Grey,
made of recycled pigment dust, although I’m sure nobody uses that color for
anything other than to enter a painting in the manufacturer’s annual Torrit
Grey competition!
Philpot’s list of colors won’t help us paint better, of
course. But can’t we try to connect
emotionally with each subject, as he must have done, and not strive so hard to
get a frozen, photographic likeness in our portrait work? Shouldn’t we strive to let our sitters be
recognized on canvas as the distinct, living and breathing individuals they are,
rather than as exact replicas of a photograph? But maybe we’re not so interested anymore in
rendering soft, tender flesh in all its natural beauty. We’re being taught to prefer the glossy, plastic
flesh of dinosaurs, aliens, action heroes and supermodels nowadays.
