I must
confess, I love this picture. As noted
in an earlier column, Angelica Kauffman (1741
– 1807) was a child prodigy in both painting and music. (Winckelmann
wrote that Kauffman had a sublimely beautiful voice.) Her prowess as a painter was formidable, and
she and her father toured Europe, painting portraits for high society much as
young Mozart played pianoforte for royalty.
But the
decision between painting and music was not an easy one, as can be witnessed in
this 1792 self-portrait. (Self-triptych?) It’s fascinating; centuries before the birth
of Freud, Kauffman splits her personality into three parts, including a
mediating Ego. And at this point, the
decision is clear – the musician will become a painter.
Look at
the figures. Kauffman left holds a music
roll and the hand of the center Kauffman: her face is both imploring and
wounded. This is the look of a lover who
knows she is being left.
Now,
look at the Kauffman right; she holds easel and brush and points
dramatically to the distance: get to
work! Kauffman right does not touch
Kauffman center, but there is no need; she has won.
Kauffman
center looks guiltily at Kauffman left while motioning towards Kauffman right –
the look says I love you, but I love her,
more.
Kauffman
left has a garland of blue flowers in her hair; she is perhaps the more ethereal
and artistic of the three. Soulful,
perhaps is the right word. That quality
of soul is missing from Kauffman right, and one wonders to what degree she felt
forced to choose painting over music.
But these doubts are subverted somewhat by the neoclassical and
painterly background. Music never stood
a chance.
Painters
without number have executed self-portraits, but few have so explicitly
illustrated their thinking.
Questions
of choice seemed to be a constant throughout Kauffman’s life. Here is an excerpt from Nollekens and his Times, written in 1828 by J. T. Smith:
The reader will probably recollect
the manner in which Angelica Kauffman was imposed upon by a gentleman’s servant,
who married her under the name of Count Horn, and the way in which his
treachery was discovered; as related in the early part of the present volume. Angelica, however, was universally considered
as a coquette, so that we cannot deeply sympathize in her disappointment; and
as a proof how justly she deserved that character, I shall give an anecdote
which have often heard Mr. Nollekens relate.
When Angelica was at Rome, previously to her marriage, she was
ridiculously fond of displaying her person, and being admired; for which
purpose she one evening took her station in one of the most conspicuous boxes
of the Theatre, accompanied by [painter] Nathaniel Dance and another artist,
both of whom, as well as many others, were desperately enamored of her. Angelica, perhaps, might have recollected the
remonstrance of Mrs. Peachum, where she says,
Oh, Polly! You might have toy’d and
kiss’d
By keeping men off you keep them on:
However, while she was standing
between her two beaux, and finding an arm of each most lovingly embracing her
waist, she contrived, whilst her arms were folded before her on the front of
the box over which she was leaning, to squeeze the hand of both, so that each
lover concluded himself beyond all doubt the man of her choice.
More Kauffman tomorrow.
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