Paul Emsley presents Catharine, Duchess of Cambridge

When Royal Portraits go Bad

Emsley's controversial 2013 portrait

   Royal portrait commissions have a long history.  Henry VIII commissioned the English court painter Hans Holbein to go paint the otherwise unseen Anne of Cleves to determine whether or not she was marriage material.  Apparently, Holbein and her portrait thought yes.  Henry disagreed and art historians have long puzzled over how Holbein did not lose his head.

    Royal portraitist and first prize 2007 BP Portrait Award recipient, Paul Emsley is possibly grateful that times have changed (and that his subject is already safely married to William, Duke of Cambridge).

    Despite the Duchess’ polite claims to the contrary, her first official portrait as an HRH could have come off better.  Less polite critics have labeled Emsley’s effort as disappointing, even renaming the work, vampire princess, noting that the portrait more seemingly resembles the style of the popular Twilight films than a royal portrait.

   Why should we care?  Royal portraits do more than introduce a sovereign to his or her people, they are a record of the generations to which they belong.  Two hundred years from now, schoolchildren will visit the Royal Portrait Gallery for insights as to the lives and personalities of their great-great-great grandparents.  Kate's portrait is more than an idle curiosity to us for she is our ambassador to the ages and this is how she will be formally presented. 

   The debacle is a bit frustrating.  The Duchess is quite pretty, and Emsley, despite "vampire princess," is actually quite good.  Catherine comes across as a bit pale, a bit swollen and a bit threatening in the portrait.  Her lips are too tightly pursed, her eyes leap out of their sockets with an ethereal glow and her skin, well, it appears to have seen better days (or eternal nights rather).  The portrait is indeed a bit frightening.

    I find these failures confusing.  Viewing Emsley’s portrait of his friend Michael Simpson, which won the 2007 prize, one is drawn into the portrait by his controlled use of light.  Simpson’s skin is actually one of the most fascinating aspects of the portrait – it glows, it is alive and it feels real to your eyes.  A key difference between the portrait of the Duchess and that of Simpson is the eyes.  Simpson’s eyes are dark and piercing and complement a similarly pursed smile.  They draw one into the portrait rather than pop off the canvas.

left: Emsley's Michael Simpson; right: V.S. Naipaul

    I am also rather partial to Emsley’s portrait of novelist V. S. Naipaul.  Emsley does a fine job with the skin, texture and lighting – and while he avoids the eyes altogether (the eyes are closed), he treats them confidently.  One could easily have painted a tired man, a sleeping man, or worse, a corpse.  Brilliantly, Emsley catches Naipaul at a moment of closed-eye interior reflection.  The viewer understands that this is just a temporary pause, a drawn out blink.  Naipaul is possibly collecting himself before moving on to the next interview or task.  The portrait draws one to the subject and one rather likes Naipaul and wishes to let him alone for a moment to compose himself rather than impertinently intruding on this moment to say hi.  Of the three works, I prefer the Naipaul portrait.

    Nor should Emsley feel bad.  Annie Leibovitz, one of my favorite photographers, has photographed the Queen many times with variable results.  Leibovitz has taken both the worst portrait of the Queen and two of the most commendable portraits. 

    In 2007, Leibovitz was commissioned by Vogue Magazine to photograph the Queen in full state regalia – and the official result was awful – the Queen is cold and distant.  What little light streams through the open window fails to enlighten us as to the reality of the Queen’s world or make us care about her as a person or a sovereign.  At worst, Leibovitz's Queen seems to have become trapped in a cave.  At best, her Queen is a mere fixture, a curiosity, a furniture display competing with a rather phenomenal rug.  In fact, the image is far more compelling if one considers it as having sprung from that admittedly rather magnificent floor covering.

    On the other hand, her photograph of the Queen in front of the open window is rather brilliant.  The second photo presents a woman with both a heart and an inner humanity.  Radiance is emitted through both the open window and from the Queen, herself.  One is drawn both to the sense of the Queen’s dignity and a curious sense as to what it is that has temporarily stolen the attention of the sovereign outside of her window.  She seems just a bit distracted, amused and thereby approachable without have lost any of her native dignity or regal authority.  Somehow, one finds more confidence in the leadership and example of the second Queen than in the first.

Annigoni's Young Queen (1953/4)

    A third portrait by Leibovitz similarly compels me in that Leibovitz both references an earlier, well-received portrait, and successfully manipulates or at least identifies the essential elements in both images to tell the story of the Queen’s reign.   Pietro Annigoni,’s portrait of Queen Elizabeth dates from beginning of Elizabeth’s reign.  The 1950s were a difficult time for the monarchy and for the United Kingdom.  Elizabeth’s beloved father, King George VI, who had served as a sort of bedrock for the nation through the abdication of his brother, Edward VIII, through World War II, the transition to the Commonwealth, the loss of India, and the worries of the Communist threat, has rather suddenly passed away. 

    Seeming young and feminine, these were heavy responsibilities to be placed on the shoulders of the young Queen.  Annigoni presents us with a dark sky and barren trees.  Elizabeth has not become Queen of a pastoral Golden Age of Spring and bounty, but rather during a troubled, stormy time.  Yet, Annigoni presents Elizabeth as confident, strong and a warrior fit to lead during this time.  Together, Elizabeth and Annigoni put forward a statement of confidence and warning – support this young sovereign for she is strong enough to lead us, but these remain troubled times.

Leibovitz's Queen Elizabeth II, 2007

    Some 40 years later, Leibovitz’s photo of the Queen, presumably in St James Park, clearly references that earlier portrait.  We see the same dark sky and the same barren trees.  Things have not changed so much.  But Leibovitz presents a very different Queen.  Her Elizabeth is battle worn, confident and secure.  The skies are doubtful and dark, but the Queen seems at home and capable -- not unlike poses by certain victorious British war heroes.  Where one is drawn to the light in Annigoni’s background, the Leibovitz photo draws one’s attention directly to the Queen.  We are not called to cautious support by Leibovitz, but rather are relaxed by the presence of demonstrated ability and confidence.  The first is the Queen at the start of her reign, the second is a Queen at the height of her rule.  Two brilliant character sketches bookending an extensive length of British history.

    Herein is a lesson for Emsley – the narrative.  His portrait of Catharine tells no story.  He merely paints a pretty image.  Elizabeth’s portraits are full of drama, urgency and story. 

    Though rather lacking a sense of regal authority and decorum, John Wonnacott’s 2000 The Royal Family: A Centenary Portrait overflows with narrative.  We see the entire royal family in perhaps the same room with the same brilliant rug that Leibovitz’s first portrait of the Queen was taken.  Taken together, the figures tell the story of a gathering – of a family.  We see the interactions of each individual and form the opinion that were have been privileged to meet a rather friendly group in a relaxed setting where they are engaged in friendly conversation and taking a bit of a break from other, more serious and formal duties. 

Wonnacott, Royal Family:  Centenary (2009)

    At the same time, each individual figure also reveals the personal narrative story of that character’s life and his or her personality.  Wonnacott gives us narratives within narratives.  Intriguingly, Wonnacott also places the young, still single Prince William in front as the central character.  Pay attention to the siting in this one.  William is the main focus of the narrative, and Prince Philip of York is out of the narrative and yet keeps a close protective eye on the well-being of those royals placed before him.  The Queen retains responsibility – respectfully looking after her mother, who seems to enjoy the spotlight, while relating to all of the other dependent figures in the portrait. 

    Wonnacott’s William seems to be aware of this narrative.  While Prince Harry joshes away with his grandmother, William is silent and more serious.  Someday, all this will be on his shoulders.  Harry demonstrates no such concern.  In fact, it seems readily apparent that of the Royals, Harry and the Queen Mother are the most free and unemcumbered figures in the tableau.  They are integral to the narrative and constrained by it, but at this point, bear no present responsibilities or expectation of them in the future.  That is Philip’s concern.  That is William’s awareness.  But for now, Elizabeth has it all calmly and competently under control.  This is a happy, secure royal family, but a family narrative that can only be found under the conditions of empowered royalty.  This is an important glimpse into the lives and personalities of the royals and deserves the viewer’s full attention.

Fabrizzio Cassetta' portraits of Kate

        Kate is not yet present in Wonnacott’s portrait.  Yet, Fabrizzio Cassetta, an Italian artist, captures and has preserved the beginnings of Kate’s own royal narrative – the elements and action lacking in Emsley’s work. 

 

    Catherine is a commoner.  Catherine is middle class.  Catherine is a normal girl who enjoys shopping, demonstrates good taste and enjoys life.  In many ways, Cassetta’s portraits of Catharine would make more informative and enlightening commissions than does Emsley’s.  We learn much more about Catharine, her background and her personality from Cassetta.  More importantly, we like and are able to identify with Cassetta’s Catharine, even though his style is far simpler and far more abstract than is Emsley’s.  As portraits, Cassetta’s pair are far more compelling and suitable.

    The press has been oddly silent regarding one uncomfortable fact.  The Royal Portrait Gallery commissioned the Emsley portrait, however, Emsley is not the first commission engaged to paint Catharine in her role as a royal. 

    Nicky Philipps established herself as a royal favorite in her successful completion of the first commissioned portrait of the Princes William and Harry.  Her completed Brotherly Banter was unveiled to great acclaim and endorsement by the royals in 2009.   Philipp’s style was lauded for taking a formal portrait, formal subjects and a formal commission and making it informal and approachable without losing any of its impact or dignity.

    Philipp’s portrait of the princes captures the essence of their personalities.  These are boys that were celebrated in their birth as the children of the public’s beloved Princess Diana.  We cared for them from the start and when their mother was killed in 1997, the world adopted them as their own, maintaining a respectful interest in their welfare and coming of age.  Philipps was chosen to introduce to us the full-grown princes, appropriately dressed for cotillion or their “social introduction” for that is what her portrait accomplishes.  “People of Britain, meet your princes!”

Nicky Philipps, Brotherly Banter (2009)

    Importantly, just after her marriage to Prince William, his father, Prince Charles, commissioned Philipps to also paint Catharine as a 30^th birthday present to her husband.  Assumedly, the portrait was competed and presented to a delighted prince, however, there has not been a media release of the completed portrait to the general public (that I am able to locate). 

    The unasked question on everyone’s lips after the dismal release of the Emsley portrait is how it compares to the Philipps which remains unseen.

    Intriguingly, Philipps predicted the difficulty inherent in creating a satisfactory portrait of Catharine in that Catharine is too beautiful.  Philipps pointed out that Catharine lacks the apparent frailties and imperfections upon which a portraitist might easily affix and draw into a successful character sketch within the portrait. 

    Indeed, critics have noted approvingly that Philipps has included the scars from the boys' physical romps and sports, though Harry has apparently ribbed his older brother that Philipps might perhaps have dealt a bit too kindly with William's gently receding hairline.

    Yet, part of Emsley’s strength is his demonstrated ability to do just that.  Emsley does not normally shirk from the imperfections of his sitters, rather, he exposes and celebrates them, literally shining the light on them.  Perhaps Philipps has resolved the riddle – Catharine is just too beautiful, too perfect for someone of Emsley’s style and perhaps Emsley was too respectful of Catharine and her innate beauty to identify those necessary imperfections for to draw them out.  In this, Adrian Searle of the London Guardian would agree, for he openly ponders whether or not Emsley is complicit with Catharine’s cosmetics in concealing from us the woman who subsequently fails to appear in the portrait.*  If so, such is the shame.  But, we will move on to other portraits, and Emsley will shortly reassure us with successful images of those with whom he is more comfortable and less complicit.

*”The portrait is as soundless and smooth as an undertaker’s makeover. … The duchess’ presence isn’t even spectral, let alone vampiric.  She doesn’t look older, … just already weary of being looked at.”  Adrian Searle, “The Duchess of Cambridge gets an undertaker’s makeover,” The London Guardian, 11 Jan 2013.