Only very recently a rather beautiful exhibit closed at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. A friend visited it and was able to confirm that this small exhibit ( not one of their blockbusters, you understand, but one of the many small exhibitions they run, year on year) was tiny but very sumptuous. Sadly ( Oh! How sadly!)I couldn’t make it to New York to see it myself, but was pleased to note that the Museum, in association with Yale Publishing have produced a small but beautiful book/catalogue of the exhibit, and that is what I am reviewing here.
Pastel portraits are wonderful things. I have for a long time loved this portrait in pastels of George III as a young man commissioned from jean Etienne Liotard by George’s mother, the Dowager Princess of Wales. This is still in the Royal Collection, and is simply a breathtaking piece of work:
And this sumptuous portrait of Horace Walpole by Rosalba Carriera, below, executed while he was on his Grand Tour was a highlight for me of the recent Walpole exhibit at the Victoria and Albert Museum.
During the 18th century, technological advances ment that for a short time, fashionable Europe became enamoured of these portraits. As Marjorie Shelly writes in the book:
The innovations that spurred the rising popularity of pastel were products of the Enlightenment, an era that held great respect for the manufacturing trades and crafts and had faith in the practical application of science and the arts to advance commerce and industry…In the spirit of fostering progress and the commercial advantages resulting from it, makers of crayons, paper and fixatives experimented with increasingly softer pastels, more tenacious supports and invisible nondarkening coatings…Practical infomration poured forth as well from encyclopaedias, dictionaries, journals and manuals on the artisanal aspects of pastel..the appeal of pastel was also one of economics and convenience. For artists crayon portraiture was a lucrative business that could compete in the same market place as oil painting. George Vertue, the engraver whose notebooks were the basis for Horace Walpole’s”Anecdotes of Panting in England”observed, for most practitioners pastels were “much easier in the execution than Oil colours” as the costs were lower and the handling more rapid.
And of course one of the most appealing aspects of pastel portraiture, as I do hope you can see by close examination of the portraits reproduced here ( if you click on them they will enlarge for you), was that these paintings in dry colour were able, better than any other medium, to portray their subjects skin and its texture. They could convey an idea of its bloom, that most desirable aspect of a person and especially a woman’s beauty, which defined her appeal to the 18th century eye.
As we know from Persuasion and the story of Anne Elliot and the early loss of her bloom, losing that sheen of youth from her skin had a devastating effect on her appeal and reflected her extreme depression:
A few months had seen the beginning and the end of their acquaintance; but, not with a few months ended Anne’s share of suffering from it. Her attachment and regrets had, for a long time, clouded every enjoyment of youth; and an early loss of bloom and spirits had been their lasting effect.
Chapter 4
That devastating moment when she realised Wentworth thought her altered beyond recognition, is hard to bear, for both Anne and we readers:
”Altered beyond his knowledge!” Anne fully submitted, in silent, deep mortification. Doubtless it was so, and she could take no revenge, for he was not altered, or not for the worse. She had already acknowledged it to herself, and she could not think differently, let him think of her as he would. No: the years which had destroyed her youth and bloom had only given him a more glowing, manly, open look, in no respect lessening his personal advantages. She had seen the same Frederick Wentworth.
Chapter 7
Luckily, happiness, the sea air at Lyme and escaping the confines of Kellynch brings back her bloom ( and not, do note is any of this due to the effects of applying Gowlands Lotion!) and with it, Wentworth’s admiration:
When they came to the steps leading upwards from the beach, a gentleman, at the same moment preparing to come down, politely drew back, and stopped to give them way. They ascended and passed him; and as they passed, Anne’s face caught his eye, and he looked at her with a degree of earnest admiration which she could not be insensible of. She was looking remarkably well; her very regular, very pretty features, having the bloom and freshness of youth restored by the fine wind which had been blowing on her complexion, and by the animations of eye which it had also produced. It was evident that the gentleman (completely a gentleman in manner) admired her exceedingly. Captain Wentworth looked round at her instantly in a way which shewed his noticing of it. He gave her a momentary glance, a glance of brightness, which seemed to say, “That man is struck with you, and even I, at this moment, see something like Anne Elliot again.”
Chapter 12
The portraits produced did have some important drawbacks. They could not be permanently displayed, for constant exposure to light ruined them, and they had to be protected from the elements, dust and enquiring fingers by a sheet of glass. They could not be moved much either as vibration caused the pastel particles to detach from the paper surface, thus ruining the whole effect. These drawbacks meant that the fashion for pastel portraits began to wane during the 1770s.
By the late 1790s watercolour and conte crayon were being promoted by the art and philosophical societies and pastel had become “a style now quite unfashionable” Not until the 1870s would the medium be reintroduced in its full glory by the Impressionists.
However, some unfashionable souls still commissioned pastel portraits, and the catalogue includes quite a few from the dates 1790-1810. This portrait of the sculptor Antonio Canova ( 1790) by Hugh Douglas Hamilton is a fine example,
And this delightful work by John Russell of Mrs Robert Shurlock and her daughter Ann, dating from 1801, reminds me forcibly of Isabella Knightley and Little Bella.
This fascinating but small book is illustrated with 50 full colour pictures of the pastels in the exhibition, and among the artists whose work is inluded are not only Liotard and Carriera but also such luminaries as John Singleton Copley, Chardin, and Elizabeth Louise Vigee le Brun. The text provides a very full description of the manufacturing process of pastels, the history of teh craze for these crayons , how the crayons were used and applied. Each illustration has catalogue notes of some detail(enough even to satisfy me) The book is available at a very reasonable price(see here from the publisher’s website). I can throughly recommend it, and hope you will enjoy it as much as I have.




































































14 comments
August 22, 2011 at 7:47 pm
Susan Holloway Scott
I, too, was fortunate enough to see this exhibition – tucked around the corner from the McQueen extravaganza where, unfortunately, most people probably passed it by. But oh, it WAS lovely! Because of their fragility, pastels are seldom displayed, which is really a shame. They’re like 18th c snapshots, done so quickly and with such dash that they can capture the intangible essence of a sitter much better than oils. I was surprised by how vibrant the colors were, too. A beautiful little show – and I agree that the catalogue is both a bargain and a prize.
And, of course, one of my favorite 18th c portraits was in the exhibition – young Viscount Boyne enjoying his Grand Tour and carnivale in Venice, pausing just long enough to sit in his masquerade costume with his white half-mask pushed back at a jaunty angle. ::sigh::
http://www.metmuseum.org/special/pastel_portraits/view_1.asp?item=3
August 22, 2011 at 8:09 pm
jfwakefield
As executed by Rosalba Carriera, whose life would make a fascinating novel ( I hope you are taking note!)
I was sad not to be able to see it but New York at the height of summer is too hot and humid for the good of my indifferent health.
I’m glad you enjoyed it, Susan, and isn’t the catalogue such a bargain!
The MacQueen exhibit seems as if it will be wending it’s way soon to the V and A, so I can’t wait to see it. Meanwhile my New York friend and I got very close to The Duchess of Cambridge’s wedding dress at Buckingham Palace., and we were stunned by the detail in the lace and in it’s construction. A video of Sarah Burton taking us through every detail of the design of the dress was fascinating too.
August 22, 2011 at 9:32 pm
Caitlin
These portraits are stunning – you vould just touch Canova’s skin. Thanks for sharing!
August 26, 2011 at 2:56 pm
jfwakefield
My pleasure, Caitlin. Hasnt Canova got an interesting face, too?
August 22, 2011 at 11:57 pm
Cathy Allen
I think you have described it perfectly, Julie; all the reasons why pastels are so wonderful, that is. You certainly have a way with words! ;-) In my art class days at the university, I worked just a little with pastels. I found them easy to work with (but messy to handle!) because of the ability to blend the colors so easily. (Of course, the same may be said of oils, but then, there are the other drawbacks you mentioned with them.) I found conte to be more permanent, as you said, but for that reason, not so easy to manipulate as pastels. Each has its own value, but you can’t beat pastels for skin tone, as you said. I’m sure I would have enjoyed the exhibit, and I shall look into getting the book, thank you.
P.S. I was absolutely amazed at the way that Amanda Root managed to actually show the “bloom” return to her face in the 1990′s version of the Persuasion movie. I wonder if the makeup artist used pastels? ;-) She’s quite an actress!
August 26, 2011 at 3:02 pm
jfwakefield
I always found them very difficult, and never produced any work I was proud of when I used them. Just not for me really:) But that doesn’t stop me admiring them, and I think the artists who produced these fabulous images are amazingly talented. The book, a paperback, BTW is amazing value.
I loved Amanda Roots portrayal of Anne Elliot. The scene where she examined her dull hair and face after netting Wentworth for the first time in years is heartrending.
August 23, 2011 at 5:38 pm
Dentelline
Bonsoir Julie,
Très beaux portraits!
Très intéressant!
Bises,
Dentelline
August 26, 2011 at 3:05 pm
jfwakefield
They are really fabulous aren’t they. The catalogue includes many pastel portraits by French artists, Perronneau, Boucher, they were masters if the genre :)
August 26, 2011 at 10:10 am
Karen
I am a bad friend, as I was supposed to provide our blog hostess with a review of this exquisite exhibit, which I was fortunate to happen upon earlier this summer. That’s the thing about great museums — quite aside from the behemoth shows, there are often equally worthy exhibits that receive virtually NO publicity but that one stumbles upon only to be enchanted. This was just such an exhibit, and the catalogue, reviewed here by Julie, does it justice.
*hanging head in shame*
August 26, 2011 at 3:11 pm
jfwakefield
You are NOT a bad friend, just a very, very busy professional person. You are completely forgiven ;)
August 27, 2011 at 12:20 pm
Vic
I prefer pastel portraits over oil portraits. There’s an immediacy to the medium and vitality to the strokes of the soft crayons that make the portraits come alive. I once wrote a post about Mrs Robert Shurlock, who was close to Jane Austen’s age, wistfully wondering if Jane would have looked as fetching had she married and given birth to a child.
September 8, 2011 at 10:05 am
jfwakefield
I think given Janes distaste for her sister-in-law Mary’s slovenly appearance after giving birth, she would have gone the extra mile to be neat;)
I love pastels: we have some family portraits in pastels dating from this period and I love to see them.
August 29, 2011 at 11:43 am
imogen88
Love pastels, and this is a lovely post, Julie. I loved the baby depiction the most, verrrry cute. But all lovely and vibrant as the pastels are.
September 8, 2011 at 10:02 am
jfwakefield
Fabulous medium, isn’t it?