Alberti’s Window

Jacques-Louis David was the most influential Neoclassical painter; he also was arguably the most influential painter of the 18th century (and subsequently the 19th as well). Earlier in David’s career, he was actively involved in the French Revolution. Many of his earlier paintings contain political subjects, which speak as a propagandistic call to arms (e.g. Oath of the Horatii) or glorify the martyrs of the cause (Death of Marat shows the assassination of Jean-Paul Marat, who was killed in his bathtub by Charlotte Corday). In 1791, David began sketches for a commemorative painting of The Tennis Court Oath, 20th June, 1789, which was the historical event that launched the Revolution. In 1792 David was elected as a Deputy of the Convention; he became closely allied with rebel leader Robespierre.

Later, when the Republic fell and Robespierre was executed, David was imprisoned. This self-portrait on the right (1794) was painted while David was in prison. The large bulge on David’s left cheek is a swollen, benign tumor which resulted after a fencing accident as a youth (He was known as “Gross David with the swollen cheek” by his English enemies).¹

“Following his release from prison, David declared that he would no longer follow men, he would follow principles. This indicated a desire to steer clear of controversial subjects.”² I wonder if David’s political convictions (or “principles”) also changed during his imprisonment. Not long after David’s release, he painted a portrait for Napoleon. Over time, after Napoleon rose to power, David became the court painter for the empire. Simon Shama remarks how David’s career ends in “debased self-parody. The painter who invented a story to refute the charge that he’d dallied with a portrait commission for Louis XVI was happy to do Napoleon over and over and over.”³ (Above is one of David’s portraits of the emperor, Napoleon Crossing the Alps at the St. Bernard Pass, c. 1800-01).

After Napoleon briefly met David for his first portrait sitting, David declared, “Bonaparte is my hero.” Why did David, who used to be an active revolutionary, suddenly switch to become Napoleon’s adoring fan? Simon Lee describes David has having come under Napoleon’s “spell.”⁴ Historical writings and biographies describe Napoleon as charming and captivating.⁵ Was David so struck by Napoleon’s charm and charisma that he forgot all of his earlier political convictions? Or did David just pander to whoever was in power at the time, either as a literal or financial tactic for survival?

I assume that both Napoleonic charm and survival tactics played into David’s devotion to the emperor. It seems, however, that this might not have been such a wise choice. In 1816, after the fall of Napoleon, the artist was exiled and spent the rest of his days in Brussels.⁶ Perhaps David should have stuck with his earlier convictions and left Napoleon alone?

1 David also had a stammering problem and his speech was difficult to understand. It is interesting that someone whose painting is so expressive had difficulties with simple speech.
2 Simon Lee. “David, Jacques-Louis.” In Grove Art Online. Oxford Art Online, http://www.oxfordartonline.com.erl.lib.byu.edu/subscriber/article/grove/art/T021541, accessed 13 January 2009.

3 Simon Shama, The Power of Art (New York: Harper Collins, 2006), 233.

4 Lee, “David, Jacques-Louis.”

5 For one example, see Alan Schom, Napoleon Bonaparte, (New York: Harper Collins, 1998), 7.

6 In 1989, Belgian authorities prevented David’s remains from returning to Paris.

There is an interesting article in today’s edition of the New York Times that discusses the downside of Rembrandt’s career during hard economic times in the Dutch Republic. As the writer of this article mentioned, it’s interesting to examine these paintings right now, since we are also in the midst of an economic crisis.

This is a reproduction of Rembrandt’s Woman with a Pink (early 1660s) that is discussed near the end of the article. I particularly enjoyed the writer’s thoughts regarding this painting. I also didn’t know that X-rays indicate that a child was originally included in the composition, but then painted out. This painting is one of the writer’s favorite works at the Met, and I can see why. It’s quite stunning.

Before Christmas, I worked on a project which involved scanning and transcribing the letters of a WWII soldier (Grandpa B) to his wife (Grandma B). It was a really fun project and gave me a nice break from unpacking and remodeling. J helped me transcribe some letters, including one that discussed Grandpa B’s reaction to Roosevelt’s sudden death. Both J and I knew that Roosevelt had died suddenly, but neither of us knew the details.

After looking it up, we discovered that Roosevelt collapsed on April 12, 1945 while he was sitting for a portrait with the painter Elizabeth Shoumatoff. He died that same day from a cerebral hemorrhage. I don’t think there are any other important historical figures who have collapsed (and subsequently died) while sitting for a portrait. (Can anyone prove me wrong?)

This is a reproduction of Shoumatoff’s unfinished portrait of the president. The original portrait hangs in “The Little White House” museum in Georgia.

As has been commented elsewhere, I think that that this unfinished portrait is a visual representation of FDR’s unfinished presidential term. Roosevelt never got to see the defeat of Nazi Germany (V-E Day), and although he ordered the construction of the atomic bomb, he never was faced with the decision of dropping it on Japan. Truman had to pick up and finish Roosevelt’s incomplete work. Legal scholar Cass Sunstein argues that Roosevelt’s political work is still left unfinished; in 2004 Sunstein published The Second Bill of Rights: FDR’s Unfinished Revolution and Why We Need It More than Ever.

In 1991 Shoumatoff published a memoir regarding her experience of painting “The Unfinished Portrait.” I plan on reading it soon.

I also found online a transcript of Robert G. Nixon’s oral history. He also has some interesting recollections of the day FDR died.