As portrait artists, we can only strive for a likeness as we see the subject. To do this, we use all the skills and tools we have at our disposal. We meet the subject (when possible), sketch, photograph, question them about interests and hobbies, and talk to those who know them the best.
However, the ultimate success of the portrait may well depend on factors over which we, the artists, have no control of the emotions and memories the painting evokes in the eyes and mind of those who view it.
Perhaps three experiences I have had will illustrate this phenomenon. Many years ago I was commissioned to do a posthumous portrait of a clergyman. I have met him when he was alive, and knew that he had evoked strong emotions within his congregation. Only one photograph was available for which to paint the portrait, so there were no decisions to be made. When completed, the portrait was hung in the vestibule of the sanctuary. Shortly after it was placed there, I received a phone call from a congregate telling me what a great likeness I had achieved, and that seeing the portrait brought back all the fond memories she had of him being a warm kind person. Over the years I heard many more comments, such as , "You really captured his dynamic personality," or "He was so inspiring. You really brought that out in the painting."
Then there was the encounter I will never forget. An elderly lady approached me one day and said, "You did a terrific job on the portrait. It really looks like him so much that it reminds me of everything I hated about him!"
Recently, I was commissioned to paint the retirement portrait of a college president. It was fortunate for me that he had chosen to retire in New Orleans, so I had the opportunity to get to know him and have many sittings with him. He took a very active role in the decision making process, the most important being that his expression be serious as was befitting to the stature of his position. He was very pleased with the final portrait, and commented that the expression was just what he wanted—serious and dignified.
His wife and daughter viewed the portrait separately and were both pleased, having identical reactions to it. They were both struck by the fact that I had managed to capture his jovial nature even in his "official" capacity. But the two women gave different reasons for their responses: his wife said that, although his mouth was serious, I had captured his humor in the twinkle of his eye. His daughter, on the other hand, said that even though his eyes were serious, she could see his humor in the upturned corners of his mouth. Both thanked me for not making his expression as serious as he had wanted it to be.
Finally, there was the Marti Gras Captain. The Captain of a Mardi Gras krewe (organization) , is the person in charge of running the organization and producing the parade and carnival ball each year. In the old established krews, his identity is a secret outside the organization, and he is always masked at any official public appearance, including the ball itself.
I was asked to paint a full-length portrait of the captain of a krewe on the occasion of his 25th year in that office. It was to be a surprise , and I only had one suitable photograph from which to work. He was in his full costume, including the mask, which completely covered his face! It was decided that I would paint the portrait as he appeared in the photograph, including the mask, and that after it was presented, the Captain would come for sittings so that I could paint his face.
When the portrait was about three-quarters complete, I requested that the original costume be brought to my studio so that I could paint the sequins, satin, and other textures in more detail. I was completely shocked by the comments made by the person who brought me the costume as she first viewed the portrait. "That looks just like him," she said. Astounded, I asked, "How can you tell?" (After all, the face was hidden by the mask). Her reply was, "Those are his eyes, and those are his legs!" It was at moment I knew that I would never be asked to paint in the face. Not only was it unnecessary, but it would not be true to how everyone saw this gentleman in his masked costume.
So what is that elusive ingredient which everyone refers to as a "good likeness?" The bottom line is that the likeness is in the eye of the beholder.
Barbara Burk
