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Sir William Orpen, Count John McCormack (1884-1945), 1923, Oil
on Canvas, 40.9 by 34 in., National Gallery of Ireland
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Once upon a time, in the summer of 1923, to be a little more precise, the greatest Irish tenor sat
for a portrait painted by the greatest Irish portrait painter. This collaboration of artistic titans
resulted in perhaps the finest male portrait of the “modern” era, although I
confess to having only seen it in reproduction.
The tenor was John McCormack (1884-1945); the painter was
William Orpen (1878-1931).
It is a remarkable portrait.
The relaxed, casual informality of McCormack’s pose is totally convincing. It’s as if the great tenor had just plunked
down in that chair to rest after a game of tennis, still dressed in his rumpled
tennis “togs.” McCormack had, in fact,
been playing tennis on a day Orpen was paying a visit to continue his search for the
right outfit for McCormack to wear for the portrait. Orpen was immediately inspired to have McCormack sit for his portrait in his tennis attire, against the
wishes of some family members who thought a more formal approach was called
for, given the singer’s international fame.
But Orpen held his ground. At
last he had found the appropriate motif for the informal portrait he
envisioned.
In a preliminary note to McCormack discussing the proposed
portrait, Orpen wrote: “…evening clothes would also be excellent, but it would
have to be a soft shirt. Is this possible with the order of St Gregory? A stiff
white shirt is almost impossible unless the picture is full length, and I do
not think that either you or I would like that. I would like to get you all
"hunched up" with a soft white shirt and a large black tie.
"I may be all wrong, but that's in my mind at present. I want to make the head the main thing and big (as yours)! ... I'll be in London from the 24th till the 30th. If you happen to be there between those dates we might lunch or meet and talk things over a glass (large or small)…”
"I may be all wrong, but that's in my mind at present. I want to make the head the main thing and big (as yours)! ... I'll be in London from the 24th till the 30th. If you happen to be there between those dates we might lunch or meet and talk things over a glass (large or small)…”
And boy, did he ever make that head “the main thing.” It’s
an understated tour de force of painting -- one of the most truly lifelike
portraits ever painted. In one respect it
has no equal among all the countless portrait heads I’ve studied -- he left
nothing out and you don’t notice it. There
is no bravura bombast in Orpen’s work, just a precise, accurate recording of
every inch of the man’s face for the entire world to see. He put in every conceivable surface and tonal
variation and yet there is absolutely no evidence of struggle or crudity or conscious
intent to prove he could do so with facile brushwork. The drawing of the nose, lips and eyes is super
refined; the expression extraordinarily human, sparking a viewer’s thoughts
about the sitter’s mood as he sat for his portrait. It’s everything a great portrait should
be. And the paint handling seems as
relaxed as the sitter must have been feeling after his game of
tennis. Painting was Orpen’s game, and he
rarely lost a set!
Lily McCormack, John’s widow, tells about the making of this
portrait masterpiece in her 1949 biography of her late husband, I hear You
Calling Me. Orpen was called “Billy
Orps” by his many friends and acquaintances, and Lily writes, “Billy decided he
wanted John in some unusual attire. They tried evening dress with decorations,
but that was ruled out. An elaborate dressing gown was tried and thought too
informal; and then one day at tea time, John came in from the tennis court,
picked up a piece of music and went to the piano, saying to Laurie Kennedy, the
cellist, who was there, 'I've been keeping this for you'. Orpen decided then
and there it would be tennis togs and a piece of music in his hand. When Gwen [one
of their two children] saw the finished portrait she said, 'I don't like it.
It's too cross. He looks as if he were going to spank me, and Pop never did
that'. I am inclined to agree with her, but I admit that it does show John as I
saw him, sitting for Orpen talking politics.”
The portrait had been in the family’s possession until it was put up for auction at Christie’s in London on May 8, 2009. The National Gallery of Ireland submitted the winning bid of $542,959. Those lucky Irish!
