by Flora Alexandra I digiQualia.com
24 October
2015 to 31 January 2016.
There is no doubt that the Sackler Wing
of the Royal Academy, London has enjoyed a year of distinguished exhibitions. With
the retrospectives of the esteemed American artists Joseph Cornell and Richard
Diebenkorn, the coveted space has reached new heights. As the leaves began to
fall, I feared it was all over, but soon found myself deafened by whispers
about the little known artist Jean-Etienne Liotard’s retrospective. Described by the Guardian as, “a joyous
time machine back to the enlightenment,” the truly exquisite exhibition
captures an age of revolution in time and thought.
Liotard was a Swiss-French painter, art
dealer and connoisseur. Of his portraits, I was most intrigued by the very image, which haunted
the underground’s walls throughout weeks of anticipation. The painting from the
posters was his sumptuous work Woman on a Sofa Reading 1748-52, which depicts a young Turkish woman wearing a floral costume,
adorned with luxurious fur and pearls. Reading a discussion of virtue written
in French, she is a picture of elegance. Reflecting the exoticism, which so
intoxicated 18th century France, turqueries
may have been widespread, but Liotard’s commitment to ethnographic accuracy
was unique.
An artist of the Enlightenment period,
his portraits reflect the spirit of curiousity and experimentation, which had swept
through Europe at the time. When it came to choosing his subjects, Liotard
immersed himself in the layers of European wealth and patronage, which
supported him. This loyalty is captured in his decadent portrait of William Posonby, Viscount Duncannon, 1738 who
had invited Liotard to join his glamorous travels between Rome and
Constantinople. The famed intermediary between aristocratic sitters and
painters is depicted wearing the Turkish costume he would wear to the Dilettanti
Society’s meetings in London. Known for his ability to capture the nuances of
his subject’s sartorial flare, Liotard was able to imitate the furs and extravagant
embroidery, which his contemporaries were enslaved by.
Painting portraits for the French,
Hapsburg and British Royal families, Liotard was well acquainted with the
higher echelons of society. His delicate portrait of Princess Elizabeth Caroline, 1754 captures the fragility of a sickly
child who memorised her parts in plays, because she was too weak to read. His
ability to capture the temperament of his subjects with the subtlest facial
expressions makes them all the more captivating. As my consort, the artist
Piers Jackson declared, “Liotard’s characters are so real that you feel you could
undo the bows around their necks.”
Before leaving, I returned to Liotard’s
portrait of Madame Paul Girardot de
Vermenoux, 1763, which perfectly blends genre painting and portraiture. The
subject was famed for her beauty, but widowed young and so inherited a vast
fortune, which allowed her to move freely in the expensive circles of Paris and
Geneva. She is depicted as an allegory of the vestal Virgin in theatrical
costume that pays homage to her doctor Tronchin who takes the role of the Greek
God of medicine. Elaborate as ever, this portrait puts the Wallace Collection
to shame.
Against the decadence of the works and
drawings the subtle grey palette of the walls had a calming effect and
complemented the space, but I fear that there weren’t quite enough works to
fill it. Although, Liotard’s painterly skill and the sense of intimacy he
creates between the viewer and subject certainly quench any thirst for both
highly observant and opulent portraiture.
By Flora Alexandra Ogilvy, London-based art journalist and founder of Arteviste.com.
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