A new installation of the Connection Series at the Portland Art Museum provides an engaging and thought-provoking way to reexamine portraiture. By taking a step back and considering the variety of ways we see ourselves — and how others see us — we gain a renewed understanding of why we exist.
The concept of “we” includes not only ourselves, but also people in our communities, families, and even those we hope will be remembered after we’re gone.
At the top of the stairs, the wall at the exhibition entry features two fragments of Roman headstones with epitaphs, as well as a family crest. These objects immediately convey that the scope here goes beyond portraiture. Indeed, the topic of how we see those close to us and how we wish them to be seen in the afterlife could have led us down a rabbit hole.
The faces we encounter here are drawn from the museum’s permanent collection. Portraits, it seems, at least in America, were created to pass down a memory of the self through our families. Unlike silver, real estate, or furniture, these portraits held little value beyond sentiment.
As noted in the exhibit, during the Renaissance, portraiture was tied to humanism and a focus on the individual. While today we sometimes think of individualism as selfish, with a bit of perspective, we can see how it benefits society as a whole and strengthens our understanding of humanity to view each person as an individual, no matter their station in life.
Today, many of us curate our images on social media, creating a contrast between our real lives and the versions of ourselves we share. Yet, even in the Renaissance, portraiture allowed individuals to assert their identity and present their best selves — something we still do, albeit in a different form today.
Sometimes, in allowing ourselves to be depicted by others, we lose control over our image. That could be the case for the subjects of paintings recently displayed at Russo Lee Gallery. Artist Otis Kwame Kye Quaicoe was asked if anyone was ever unhappy with their likeness after seeing it. He responded that he works closely with the subject to ensure that the result is something they can take pride in.
Catherine the Great was particularly meticulous and sometimes sent artists back to repaint works that didn’t convey her imperial power or youthful appearance. That wasn’t always the case. Winston Churchill hated The Roaring Lion by Graham Sutherland, painted for his 80th birthday. His wife, Clementine, had it destroyed secretly after his death in 1965.
George Washington didn’t live to see a 1932 work by Alfred Henry Maurer displayed at the museum, so we don’t know if he would have been displeased by the cubist interpretation created for the 100th anniversary of his birth. However, we do know that Washington tired of the long sittings for artist Gilbert Stuart, whose depiction of William II is on view here as well.
Perhaps our favorite is a 1910 work by Leon Kroll, depicting artist Henry F. Wentz. As the label reads:
“In 1910, two young American artists came to Paris. They returned home and had a profound impact on the art world. ‘To my friend H.F.W.’ was how Leon Kroll dedicated his portrait of Henry F. Wentz, just before he returned to the United States and joined a group of New York painters pledged to showing life as it was. Wentz returned to Oregon, teaching in this Museum’s school for decades and influencing generations of artists.”
At the far corner of the show are two Dutch Golden Age paintings that don’t depict anyone in particular.
These portraits aren’t of specific, identifiable people; they’re more like studies or examples of the style. Rembrandt and his circle of artists used dark tones and carefully painted the faces to make them look super realistic, which makes the idea that they aren’t any particular person even more confounding.
Portraiture may not always be seen as the pinnacle of art, but it holds far more meaning than we often realize. It’s not just about the image itself but how it connects us — how we see ourselves, how we’re seen by others, and how we wish to be remembered. This new installation at the Portland Art Museum invites us to reconsider the role of portraiture, offering a chance to reflect on our past and future, broaden our perspectives, and perhaps better appreciate our place in the timeline of history.
