Strange and Unusual Portrait by Fontana

Yesterday I came across the strangest portrait I have ever seen. Take a look at Lavinia Fontana's portrait of Antonietta Gonzalez (also written as "Gonzales," c. 1595, on left). At first, I didn't know what to make of this painting. Was it a joke? Why would young girl be depicted with a hairy face?

This is no joke, my friends. In fact, it's a rather unusual story. Antonietta Gonzalez (as well as her father, two sisters and other family members) had hypertrichosis (also commonly called "werewolf syndrome"). This is a rare genetic disorder which causes an abnormal amount of hair on the body. (You can read more about the disorder and see some interesting images here.) Antonietta's father, Pedro (sometimes written as Pedrus) Gonzalez, was the first known person to be affected with this disorder. Given the rarity of the disease, it seems a little surprising that so many people within the Gonzalez family were affected by hypertrichosis. One writer noted that in terms of pathology, "the Gonzales sisters were one in a billion - all three of them."¹

Luckily, though, Antonietta and her sisters were not shunned by society, but welcomed into the courts of Europe. Although I'm sure that these girls served as objects of curiosity to some degree, they also were subject to medical investigations and, obviously, portrait sittings. Antonietta explains a little of her personal history in the handwritten note which she holds in the portrait: "Don Pietro, a wild man discovered in the Canary Islands, was conveyed to his most serene highness Henry the king of France, and from there came to his Excellency the Duke of Parma. From whom [came] I, Antonietta, and now I can be found nearby at the court of the Lady Isabella Pallavicina, the honorable Marchesa of Soragna."²

Historian Merry Weisner-Hanks has speculated that Lavinia Fontana met Antonietta in Parma. I hope to find more information about the portrait in The Marvelous Hairy Girls: The Gonzales Sisters and Their World a relatively new book by Weisner-Hanks. It looks really interesting.

Okay, so here's my question: do you know of a portrait more unusual or strange than this one? Let's make it a little game; I'm curious to see what people might submit. And I'll let you, dear readers, decide what constitutes "unusual" or "strange" (e.g. the sitter, the artistic presentation of the sitter, the medium, etc.).

P.S. As I was finishing up this post, my two-year-old looked at the Fontana portrait and said, "Hey, is that you?" Ha ha! I didn't realize that I was having such a bad hair day!

1 Jason Zasky, "Hair Apparent," in Failure Magazine (n.d.), located here (accessed 12 January 2011).

2 Merry Weisner-Hanks, "Hairy Marvels and Beastly Sex," in National Sexuality Resource Center (1 October 2009), located here (accessed 12 January 2011).

Elizabeth I and a Snake?

I've always liked royal portraits. It's always fun to see how a monarch decides to visually assert his/her power, prestige, wisdom, wealth, etc. In portraiture, these attributes and characteristics of the sitter are emphasized through various signifiers (e.g. lavish, expensive clothing signifies that the wearer of the clothes is rich). What what if the signifier (or symbol) isn't clear or easily understood?

That seems to be the case with this portrait by Elizabeth I (anonymous artist, 16th century, shown left). The final product of this painting showed Elizabeth I holding a bunch of roses in her hand. I haven't seen what the painting looked like with roses (this Telegraph article described the roses as a "decorative" element), but it seems to me that roses could have also been been an easily identifiable symbol for Elizabeth I, since roses were a symbol of her family, the house of Tudor.¹

But whether these roses were symbolic or decorative, they were obviously added at the last minute. Deterioration of this painting has revealed that the monarch originally was holding a snake in her hand. Based on the remaining visual evidence, an artist has recreated how the snake probably appeared in the original portrait (see below). It is thought that the snake was repainted with roses because of the "ambiguity" of the serpent symbol (again, see Telegraph article).

Well, "ambiguity" is right. The well-known symbolic associations with snakes are the Fall, sin, death, and Satan. And I'm pretty sure Elizabeth I wasn't going for those associations. Once in a while you hear about snakes being associated with wisdom, so maybe that explains why the snake was originally included? Can you think of any other symbolic reasons why Elizabeth I would be depicted with a snake?

On another note, deterioration of this painting has also caused a strange ghostly appearance on Elizabeth I's forehead. This portrait was painted over another unfinished portrait, and the eyes and nose of the previous woman face have become visible. It appears that the painter of Elizabeth I decided to reuse the unfinished panel, a common practice at the time.

Poor Elizabeth. As was suggested on The Corinthian Column, Elizabeth I doesn't appear to have been the most attractive of monarchs. And having an extra nose and pair of eyes in your forehead is not going to improve your looks.²

1 You can see other portraits of Elizabeth I with Tudor roses, such as "The Pelican Portrait" by Nicolas Hilliard (c. 1575-1580).

2 This Elizabeth I portrait is part of the National Portrait Gallery (London) collection. It has not been on display for almost a century, but will soon be exhibited as part of the show "Concealed and Revealed: The Changing Faces of Elizabeth I." The show runs from March 13 to September 26.

Browere's Life Mask of Jefferson

Have you heard the story of how Thomas Jefferson was nearly killed by the artist John H. I. Browere? The elderly, retired statesman and ex-president was approached in 1825 by Browere, who asked to be allowed to take a life mask of Jefferson. Apparently, Browere was not very skillful; the plaster hardened too quickly, which impaired Jefferson's breathing and ability to cry out for help. Luckily, Jefferson's hand was resting on a nearby chair, and he was able to bang it on the floor to bring attention to his distress.

To make matters worse, Browere did not apply enough oil on Jefferson's face, so the plaster stuck to the frail man's face. Browere had to use a mallet and chisel to break the plaster off of Jefferson's skin, and the ex-president reportedly groaned and even sobbed during the whole ordeal.¹ When discussing the removal process, Jefferson wrote in a letter that "there became a real danger that [my] ears would separate from [my] head sooner than from the plaster."²

Poor man. It's no wonder that Jefferson wrote in the same letter, "I now bid adieu for ever to busts and even portraits."³

The above photograph of this infamous life mask was taken in 1939 by LIFE photographer Bernard Hoffman. Jefferson's expression doesn't look to happy - and can you blame him? The man couldn't breathe!

Understandably, Browere didn't have the greatest reputation. He was called an "itinerant sculptor" by Dumas Malone and a "vile plaisterer" by Jefferson's granddaughter.⁴ Artists in the American Academy (i.e. Trumbull) and National Academy were opposed to Bowere, too.⁵ It seems, though, that the ambitious writer Charles Henry Hart was able to overlook all of Bowere's faults. In 1899 Hart published a thorough examination of Bowere's life casts in a book, and he even went as far as to call Bowere an "ingenious" man.⁶ (No doubt such a statement reflected well on Hart, who credited himself with rediscovering the artist.) Hmph.

Granted, I do think it is really fun to see life casts of so many prominent members from American history. In that aspect, I'm appreciative of what Bowere did. (If you are interested, you should look at some of the life casts in Hart's book, found online here). As an artist, though, Bowere definitely was lacking in skill. After all, he almost killed one of the Founding Fathers through his incompetence.

Let's end this post with a more pleasant portrait of Jefferson, shall we? At least Jefferson appears to breathe freely in this bust:

Houdon, Thomas Jefferson, 1789 (Museum of Fine Arts, Boston)

1 Annette Gordon-Reed, The Hemingses of Monticello (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2008), 626.

2 Thomas Jefferson to James Madison, 18 October 1825, in Smith, Republic of Letters, 3:1942-43. See also Gordon-Reed, 627.

3 Ibid.

4 Gordon-Reed, 626.

5 Charles Henry Hart, "Life Masks - Those Browere Made of Great Americans. Charles Heny Hart's Comments on Them." New York Times, 8 April 1899. Copy of article can be accessed here.

6 Charles Henry Hart, Browere's Life Masks of Great Americans (Doubleday & McClure Company, 1899), x. Citation can be accessed online here.

Cezanne = Geometric Man

Camille Pissarro, Portrait of Cezanne, 1874

I just stumbled across this portrait of Cezanne. I'd never seen a portrait of the Cezanne before, but it makes me happy that Pissarro depicted his friend in a bulky, geometric fashion. Actually, it appears that Cezanne was a large-ish man (at least at some point in his life), as evidenced by this self-portrait (c. 1873-1876), this one (c. 1875).*

I like the thought that this bulkier, full-bearded man is reflected in the geometric, bulky art forms that he created. It's almost like Cezanne's geometric forms (like this Mont Saint-Victoire from 1900) are portraits of the artist himself. Ha! I find that kind of cute.

*It appears that Cezanne varied in his physical bulk and size - he appears smaller in this photograph (c. 1861, when Cezanne was about 22 years old) and his face appears quite thin in this self-portrait (c. 1898-1900, when the artist was about 60 years old).

Chuck Close's Wheelchair Painting

Many art history students are introduced to Chuck Close's art with this painting:

Big Self Portrait, 1967-1968

Close is really interesting because of his painting theories and technique. Instead of just transferring a photograph into paint on a canvas, Close thinks that painting is a systematic and intellectual exercise. His work is not just about transferring images - he is transferring "photographic information into painted information").¹ I think it's especially interesting that this systematic approach can be further seen in Close's choice of large-scale canvases - they are basically same size (9' x 7').² Although he is best described as a photorealist, this interest in systematic and intellectual art makes Close a little different from his colleagues.

Anyhow, a conversation last night reminded me that Close's later work is stylistically different from his early portraits. In 1988, a collapsed spinal artery left Close nearly paralyzed. Luckily, he has been able to continue painting from his wheelchair with a brush strapped to his partially mobile hand. Although Close was veering towards a more lively style before 1988, his current condition ensures that he cannot paint in the meticulous manner required for his early style. Personally, though, I really like Close's later work. It's dynamic and interesting. I also think that it's fun to zoom in on Close's later paintings until the portraits are unrecognizable; they become a myriad of colorful, stylized swirls and whorls.

You can see how much Close's style has changed by looking at this self portrait:

Self Portrait, 1997

I think it's really awesome that Close has been able to continue his career and artistic vision (he even continues to paint on large-scale canvases!). You can watch a video of him working below (and read more of the CBS story here).


Watch CBS Videos Online

Pretty impressive stuff, huh? Which Chuck Close style do you like more? His early style or later style? Or neither?

1 Fred S. Kleiner and Christin J. Mamiya, Gardner's Art Through the Ages, 12th ed., vol. 2 (Belmont, CA: Wadsworth, 2005), 1056 (italics added for emphasis).

2 Ibid.

Can You Guess the Artist?

If a famous artist like Leonardo da Vinci passed you on the street, would you recognize him? There is little doubt that you would instantly recognize his painting of the Mona Lisa, but what about the face that created the Mona Lisa? I have a feeling that most people wouldn't recognize a majority of famous artists, but I might be wrong. Try and guess the artist depicted in each of these portraits/self-portraits. (I tried to avoid self-portraits that are too indicative of the artist's style - I don't want that to give the answer away!) The answers are in the comment section of this post.



How did you do?

Nefertiti and CT

I never thought I would be interested in reading an article in my father-in-law's Radiology magazine. However, I was intrigued that the cover of their recent issue has a picture of the famous Nefertiti statue bust (made by the artist Thutmose, Dynasty XVIII (ca. 1353-1335 BC)). Recently, some computed tomography (CT) performed on the core and surface of the statue bust has revealed new information.

According to this article, there are slightly different physical characteristics which appear on the inner core of the statue (consequently revealing a "second hidden face").¹ On the inner core, the CT revealed that there "creases around the corners of the mouth and cheeks, a less harmonious nose ridge, and less prominent cheekbones. The nose [also] showed a slight bump."²

The visible outer layer (left) and the inner layer (right) show a difference in the nose (the bump is indicated by an arrow)

Although the outer surface of stucco refined and softened these wrinkles and bumps, it is also interesting that there is a more pronounced shaping of the eyelid corners on the outer layer (see image below). This emphasis on the outer eyes supports interpretations that this bust was supposed to be recognized as a depiction of a mature woman, not of a woman of flawless beauty."⁴

The shaping of the eyelid corners on the outer (visible) surface can be seen on the right (indicated by *). On the inner core (left) creases in the corners of the mouth (arrows) were found.

I think it's fascinating to look at different facial characteristics on the inner core - perhaps the inner core is a more correct representation of how Nefertiti appeared in life. It's great that technology can help historians and archaeologists learn more about art. In this study, CT also showed more information regarding the types of tools and materials that were used to sculpt the bust. In addition, further details were revealed about the thickness of the stucco, which will serve as useful information for conservators.

Although I didn't understand all of the scientific terminology or system of measurement used in this article, it was still interesting to read. Perhaps I should pick up Radiology more often?

1 Alexander Huppertz et al, "Nondestructive Insights into Composition of the Sculpture of Egyptian Queen Nefertiti with CT," Radiology 251, no. 1 (April 2009): 236.

2 Ibid.

3 Ibid., 239.

4 Ibid.

Rethinking the Family of Charles IV

Like most people who study art, I was taught that Goya's portrait, Family of Charles IV (1800-1801), is a caricature of the royal family. Most introductory art history textbooks discuss the ugly features of the family members and their awkward poses. In short, the painting was supposed to reveal the stupidity of the royal family. I further interpreted this picture to show the family in an unflattering light - who in the royal family would approve of having a young woman (on the left) painted with her face turned towards the wall?

In fact, I was going to write a post on this unflattering portrait until I began to do some more research this morning.

Recently (within the past decade), there have been new arguments regarding Goya's portrait of Charles IV and his family. Edward J. Olszewski argued in 1999 that the Goya adds a sense of animation to this portrait because the sitters lack a common focal point. However, he also admits that there is a lack of unity that resulted because Goya sketched the members of the group individually, not collectively.¹ He argues that the family members approved of the sketches that were taken for the portrait. Suggestions that a family member looks "foolish" or awkward are because the elderly Dona Maria Josefa was suffering from the effects of lupis (she died shortly after the portrait was completed) and Dona Maria Luisa Josefina (on the far right, holding a baby) suffered from a spinal defect.² In addition, Olszewski finds the brilliant colors and pigments in the painting to be very favorable; they were quite modern for the period.

I also learned from Olszewski's article that the woman on the left side of the canvas (with her face turned towards the wall) is the future bride of the prince regent, as yet unchosen. Of course she would be depicted with her face towards the wall, since the family wasn't sure whose face to portray! Maria Antonia could have been painted in the portrait after she and Ferdinand married in 1802, but Goya was never asked to change the painting.

As for the infamous critic's statement that the painting looks like a "grocer and his family who have just won the big lottery prize," Alisa Luxenberg wrote in 2002 that this statement has been misquoted.³ Several historians have picked up on this quote and scattered it throughout art historical texts. She and Olszewski both point out that a similar quote was stated by Renoir in 1907. Renoir mentioned that the portrait looked "like a butcher's family in their Sunday best." However, the point of this comment was not to pinpoint the painting as caricature. Instead, this statement was an indication of Renoir's belief that "an artist's 'true' personality - meaning class to Renoir, who seemed acutely sensitive to his own working-class roots - manifests itself in art. In the recounting of this discussion, Renoir supposedly explained that Goya's plebian background emerged in his rendering of artistocrats as shopkeepers."⁴

These articles have made me rethink the Family of Charles IV portrait. I still don't find many of the family members to be terribly attractive, but this doesn't mean necessarily that the portrait is a caricature. Instead, perhaps this portrait is a paradigm for its age; with the ongoing Enlightenment in the 18th century, perhaps the stress on scientific, visual evidence affected the production of idealized portraiture? Maybe the members of the family wanted to be portrayed as how they really looked, whether attractive or inattractive.

If you want to read more, I would particularly recommend Olszewski's article. It's quite fascinating.


1 Edward J. Olszewski, "Exorcising Goya's 'The Family of Charles IV'," Arbitus et Historiae 20, no. 40 (1999): 176-177.

2 Ibid., 178.

3 Alisa Luxenberg, "Further Light on the Critical Reception of Goya's 'Family of Charles IV' as Caricature," Arbitus et Historiae 23, no. 46 (2002): 179-180.

4 Ibid, 179. See also Olszewski, 182-183.

Gainsborough's Portrait of Georgiana

Keeping with this week's theme of stolen art, I am particularly interested in the story regarding the portrait Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire. This portrait was completed in 1787 by Thomas Gainsborough, a popular English portrait painter. I'm particularly interested in this painting because my grandparents own a reproduction of it (or else it's another painting that closely mimics the style and pose of Gainsborough's portrait - I'll have to look more closely next time I visit).

Georgiana is the great-great-great-great aunt of Princess Diana, and there have been many parallels drawn between the two women. Both beautiful women were the toast of England during their life, although Georgiana outlived her days of high public favor. (The film "The Duchess" (2008) was based on Georgiana's life; actress Kiera Knightly (who played Georgiana) was angered that her character was often compared to Diana).

Almost a century after the painting was completed, it was sold in 1876 at an auction. Crowds of people gathered to catch a glimpse of this famous portrait. It was eventually sold to the American banker Junius Spencer Morgan, who bought the painting as a gift for his son, J. P. Morgan. However, before the portrait was shipped to America, it remained for a while on exhibition in London.

During this short period of exhibition, Adam Worth crept into the Agnew Gallery and stole the Georgiana portrait from its location of display. Worth hoped that he could use the well-loved painting as collateral; he wanted to bargain with the government to get his brother John freed from prison. However, John's lawyer was able to negotiate a release for the prisoner before Adam even had time to strike a bargain with the government. Consequently, Adam Worth was left with the beautiful portrait on his hands.

For the next twenty five years, Worth kept the painting. When he traveled, he would bring the Georgiana with him in a false-bottomed trunk. While at home, Worth would sleep with the beloved portrait under his mattress. Ben Macintyre writes in his book Napoleon of Crime that Georgiana was a "permanent, hidden companion" for Worth. Even when Worth experienced financial troubles and threats of capture, the theif preferred to "face disgrace, penury, and imprisonment rather than part with the Duchess."¹ Finally, near the end of his life, Worth sold the painting for an undisclosed sum and negotiated a promise of immunity.

Today, Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire is part of the Devonshire Collection. In 1994, the current Duke of Devonshire bought the portrait and placed it at Chatsworth, his ancestral home. Edward Dolnick points out that Georgiana now "presides" in the grand dining room, the location where she held court during her lifetime.²

1 Ben Macintyre, Napoleon of Crime (New York: Harper Collins, 1997), 16.

2 Edward Dolnick, The Rescue Artist (New York: Harper Collins, 2006), 151.

FDR's Unfinished Portrait

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.