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Theo van Rysselberghe (1862-1926), Marguerite van Mons (1876-1919), 1886, Oil on Canvas, 35.2 by 27.8 in., Museum
of Fine Arts, Ghent,
Belgium
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| Marguerite van Mons, Detail |
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| Camille van Mons, 1886, Oil on Canvas, 35 by 27.5 in., Niedersächsisches Landesmuseum, Hannover, Germany |
Wouldn’t it be nice to live in a place and at a time when
you could concentrate all your efforts on painting a memorable picture full of pure
and transcendent human emotion without worrying about achieving photographic “accuracy”
from the get-go? Such a place was Brussels, Belgium. The year was 1886. The month was June.
That’s where and that’s when the brilliantly gifted Belgian
painter Theo van Rysselberghe, only 23 years old at the time, painted his
remarkable portrait of Marguerite van Mons, who was 10 years old when she stood
for the artist at her home in front of a huge double door painted a lovely pastel blue and
embellished with gilt moldings.
Marguerite is dressed simply in the type of long-sleeved black
costume that would be a delight to paint. It’s quite thrilling, actually, when you
finally get to the point in your painting when you are ready to boldly accent
all that black with a deeper shade of black, as with the wide belt in this
case. The only other accent is the silver
bracelet gleaming on her wrist as she grasps the handle of the door –a
fascinating idea for a pose. Had she
expressed a normal child’s desire not to be painted at all and therefore was
depicted by the artist as someone anxious to leave?
The gilt ornamentation on the door is painted exquisitely by
the young painter, with enough detail to be convincing, but not too much to
detract from his sensitive portrayal of the elfin Marguerite. Theo’s treatment of Marguerite’s expressive
face, with that slightly open mouth and dreamy, thought-provoking gaze, can seem
so incomplete to all contemporary painters who choose to rattle the chains of photographic
realism. But it’s perfect.
Conveying human emotion on canvas goes far beyond the known
world of technical rendering to an uncharted realm of deep concentration shared
by the painter and the sitter for only a few brief hours. But the resulting portrait has the potential
to carry on this fleeting encounter through the ages -- a testament to life
eternal. Painting is truly a gift from
heaven.
Theo also painted a superb portrait of Marguerite’s older sister,
Camille, although he placed her in a conventional pose and created a naturalistic
portrait. The result is far less
intriguing. For whatever reason, Marguerite’s
personality and demeanor must have suggested a more daring and provocative
treatment for her portrait. Theo dedicated his captivating portrait of
Marguerite to Emile van Mons, the father of the two girls. Van Mons, a lawyer and renowned patron of the
arts, was a good friend of the precocious painter.
Now let’s take a minute to discuss Marguerite’s extended arm. I can just imagine a less sophisticated
parent loudly complain, “But, monsieur, you have made the arm far too
long!” Because the portrait in toto is so mesmerizing, this is not something that the average person would even notice, unless you stare at it like an idiot and try to take measurements off the computer screen to see if it is indeed so. Who would do a dumb thing like that, I wonder. And after reconsidering my review of this painting in the cool light of the morning after, I am beginning to see several little "imperfections" in the portrait of Marguerite -- the kind of petty details involving measuring that drive me crazy in my own work. Painters of the past often got by
with anatomical murder to produce their masterpieces. Try it today and they will shoot you at
sunrise.
A fascistic demand for photographic “accuracy” permeates the
traditional art world today, dear friends, and that’s the main reason nobody
paints a really memorable portrait anymore.
You can’t make the arm too long or give summary treatment to the
likeness these days. And if you realize you have done so in moments of passionate painting and are compelled to correct your "mistakes," you can kiss your masterpiece goodbye!
But what’s that you say, “That was then and this is
now?” Of course, you’re right. I was being judgmental again. I apologize.
