“...portraiture generally has wide public interest - how we perceive and represent ourselves, and the histories that are constructed by our images of ourselves, are endlessly interesting and continually contested.” - Kate M Murphy (1)
This blog is my honours paper, which concerns itself with the connection between human value and contemporary portraiture - particularly that in Australia.
Over the course of this blog I will present my research and reflections regarding the following areas of my art practice: content and meaning, my process, things that have influenced the form of my work and considerations of its community impact.
My honours project, to which this paper is related, consists of making the portraits of a range of people who live in my suburb, Surry Hills, and who come from across the diverse socio-economic of the area. I intend to present them together, each as equally valuable elements that contribute to what the suburb is.
(Jemima Trappel, Sketches from Surry Hills, 2011, drawing media on paper, dimensions variable)
(Gustave Courbet, The Stone Breakers, 1849, Oil on canvas, 165.1 x 238.8 cm)
(Pierre-Auguste Renoir, The Luncheon of the Boating Party, 1881, Oil on canvas, 129.5 x 172.7 cm)
Taking a step back from such assertions of social value, the French Impressionists following them painted family and friends as subjects of their light observations and parts of middle-class life. However the development of describing an individual’s likeness in a cheaper, more affordable form came with the advent of photography in the 19th century. While in the 20th century this led to the proliferation of images and photographic portraits of all types of people from contrasting social backgrounds, this investigation shall purposely focus on what intersects with the painted or drawn portrait.
(William Fernyhough, Mickie, Lake Macquarie, Newcastle, 1836, Print, planographic, 22.4 x 28.4 cm)
In colonial Australia (from the 1830s) series of lithographic portraits that documented groups of people became popular. Some were concerned with presenting the ‘typical’ in the society, while others sought to be more comprehensive in documenting an entire community, such as an aboriginal tribe. Such groupings are revealing of colonialist perspectives and values with regard to different people groups and social roles. From the groups we see decisions as to whether settlers should be separated from aborigines, whether women and children were of equal interest as men, or whether they should be included at all (4). Bonyhady notes that while women would generally be presented as much as men in Aboriginal groupings, in sequences featuring colonists they were rare (5).
Nowadays in middle-class Australia, living in the environment of post-feminism, a policy of multiculturalism and official repentance over the stolen Aboriginal generations, many people may take social equality for granted. If someone has access to good education there is the assumption that if they work hard enough they can become whatever they want. They can become great. They can become a politician or someone famous and have their portrait commissioned in honour of their illustrious career. Yet what about someone who went to the same school, left at year 10, studied building at TAFE, twenty years later they damaged their back, were unable to work and so became homeless? Are they as a person less valuable than the class mate who became a politician?
My explorations into the social context of portraiture in Australia began with a realisation of some social groups being exulted over others in contemporary portraiture. By this I mean that there has been, and continues to be, a tradition of painted portraits of celebrated Australians - usually those who are respected for something, considered accomplished or are well known. The Archibald Prize is probably the most well-known case in point. In its rules it requires the sitter to be ‘distinguished in the areas of art, letters, science or politics’. Throughout its controversial history this prize has attracted submissions depicting people whose social roles have been considered ‘distinguished’ (6). However, do the rules of this prize mean that other portraiture-supporting institutions in Australia also elevate certain social roles over others? It is true that the Doug Moran Prize for Portraiture, staged at the NSW State Library, does not seem to, since the entry form states that the sitter does "not need to be in any way well known", rather preferring that they have a close personal connection to the artist. The National Portrait Gallery [NPG] in Canberra also celebrates portraiture in its various forms, holding a variety of portraiture exhibitions and competitions (such as the national youth self-portrait prize) where the faces of people from the daily experience of many Australians can be seen. However, while this is the case, for its permanent collection it does seek to primarily acquire portraits of notable Australians - where each subject is ‘either important in his or her field of endeavour or a known and named person whose life sets them apart as an individual of long-term public interest’ (7). But does this tendency to focus on particular individuals over others extend beyond such well-established institutions as the Archibald and the NPG? When looking at other portrait prizes, the Shirley Hannan Prize for Portraiture is not concerned with any social status of the sitter as the focus is on capturing likeness. However, the recently created Perth Black Swan Prize for Portraiture does require some social elevation on the part of the sitter: they must be ‘well known’ or ‘well respected’ in their field, and if they are not well known then the artist must justify why they respect them. Such variation in the entry requirements of these prizes seems to indicate different views on what the purpose of supporting portraiture is. Namely, whether it is to publicly remember the achievements of some individuals or to document contemporary society. However despite this the reoccurrence of the ‘well known’ or ‘distinguished’ criteria across at least three Australian institutions is worth noting. Does it suggest that, in line with the older history of portraiture there are still categories of people who are considered more worthy as the subject of a portrait than others?
The reasons why I am concerned with this question of portraiture and human value are due to my own convictions of where human worth is found as well as awareness of homelessness and different perspectives on it. For the last three years I have lived in an inner-city suburb, Surry Hills, where the socio-economic contrast is very great. From my own conversations, it seems many homeless people feel they are not cared about by the wider society and are looked down upon. However, as a Christian I am convinced that human worth is not to be found in what we have done or accomplished in life but in the very fact that each one of us has been made in the image of God.
While my honours project flows out of this personal conviction, another important element to consider is my prior artistic engagement with people groups in my suburb. During my third year at COFA I undertook a project where I painted thirteen portraits of people who go to a free Sunday breakfast run by my church called Bread of Life. At the end of the semester an exhibition was held in order to sell the paintings and raise funds for the breakfast. Most of the portraits were sold, funds were raised, but more importantly the project gave a sense of self-worth to the participants - some more notably than others. Being the subject of a painting said they existed, they had value, they were more than just faces (8) on the street, as many homeless people may seem to passer-bys.
(More than just faces exhibition catalogue, 2009)
(Jemima Trappel, Davina: together we can make a difference, 2009, Oil on plywood, 61 x 70 cm)
One individual in particular was especially touched to be painted and over the semester a friendship developed between us. She has a real heart for the plight of the homeless and is involved in many Christian and social groups in and around the areas of Surry Hills and Darlinghurst - despite being over seventy and fluctuating in and out of homelessness herself. I considered submitting her portrait for the Archibald but it seemed apparent that she did not fit into the category of ‘distinguished’ according to their criteria. This I found concerning since it upholds a system that values people who may be well known, successful, distinguished in their field but lends to the exclusion of a whole range of others who may have done very well with what they have but in perhaps more mundane areas. In taking the NPG’s collection policy and the Black Swan prize also into account, what do such criteria say about who we value as a society? It was from this situation that my desire emerged to investigate further into the culture supporting portraiture in Australia.
“In sum, the NPG is an ongoing, dedicated centralised place of portraiture in Australia. The institution is however not exclusively concerned with this medium. In its permanent collection and display practices the NPG produces itself as a national centre at an intersection of the field of portraiture and the recognition of individuals as agents of historical significance or as distinctive ‘achievers’. ...in its liberal focus on individuals as key actors in the Australian national mythscape the Portrait Gallery somewhat de-emphasises social structure or situation, and naturalises social hierarchies through the non-recognition of the contributions of most individuals within the national mythscape.” - Chris Beer (9)
“The whole concept of the national cultural heritage exploits the authority of art to glorify the present social system and its priorities.”- John Berger (10)
As my project progressed, an important concern that arose was the question of the place of photography in my working process. It is nowadays common practice among artists and painting students to use photographs as reference material in the construction of their artwork. However, to paint from life and to paint from a photograph are not the same thing: indeed, they generally result in images of a different quality (11).
In a video biography of the American portraitist Alice Neel, Robert Storr (the dean of Yale University School of Art) discussed the difference between painting and photography. While the photograph captures a single moment frozen in time, a painting takes place over a longer period, recording through the layers of paint the time taken in the sittings. A painting is an ‘extended moment’, not just ‘time stopped.’ And, ‘...the mere fact that painting is not a second arrested but is a relationship of seeing and of the see-er and the subject means that painting contains duration, somehow.’ (12) In portrait painting when the image is made from life, a relationship builds between the artist and the sitter. Conversation happens, and the person is presented in the painting as the artist saw them over that period of time. The portrait in this context is a record of their interaction. In the case of Alice Neel, she wanted to paint ‘real people’ (13), and her portraits presented a psychological exploration of her subjects. A direct contrast to this is the common contemporary practice of constructing painted portraits primarily from photographic sources. While this often leads to a more exact representation of likeness and is more convenient for both parties, the relational interaction between artist and subject is significantly reduced. In the 2004 portrait of David Gulpilil by Craig Ruddy, which won the Archibald prize, Ross Woodrow (14) claimed that Ruddy had created a caricature based on a stereotype. The reasoning was that Ruddy had formed his idea before he even met Gulpilil, and their only contact was a few hours from which Ruddy could start the portrait. The portrait in this sense did not come from any artistic insights into Gulpilil’s character but rather the projection of the artist’s assumptions onto the subject’s face. It displayed a distinct lack of personal relationship between them.
(Alice Neel, Andy Warhol, 1970, Oil on canvas, 152.4 x 101.6 cm)
(Craig Ruddy, David Gulpilil, Two Worlds, Charcoal and mixed media on linen, 2004)
Like Alice Neel, Lucean Freud also painted from life, constructing his nudeportraits over many sittings, sometimes in the hundreds. With the shifting of the artist and subject during these interactions, it is evident that, "these works are painted over time, and consequently time itself is captured in the accumulations of paint, in the shifts in perspective, in the physicality of the subject." (15) In her book, Painting People, Mullins presents the work of a number of artists who choose to paint the human figure in an age dominated by visual technological reproduction. With regards to painting and photography, she discusses most painters seeing their works as an ‘antidote’ to the constant barrage of images that are shot at the viewer daily in our world: "Paintings create pauses in life, and offer distillations of subjects rather than unconnected snapshots." (16)
Based on my last post, it appears that painted portraits depict a longer duration of time than photographs. This also suggests the need for a longer viewing time, thus creating a pause as the layers of the painting are absorbed by the onlooker. It also appears that paintings made from life contain a richer relational aspect: that of the see-er and the subject, as well as any deeper understanding of the other through conversation and observations made during the time of the sittings. But what of painted portraits made primarily from photographs? Certainly there is much time spent in their construction and so in this sense as a painting they can create a pause as they are absorbed by the viewer. However without the consistent presence of the subject, the artist must project more of themselves onto the still faces in the photographs. Like in the case of David Gulpilil by Ruddy, the preconceptions of the artist are more likely to play a higher role in the finished portrait. There is less tension between the see-er and the subject, the sitter is not physically there as the artist paints, demanding attention by their presence and able to speak back. My last body of work is a good example of this. I asked people from the free breakfast if I could paint their portrait then proceeded by taking some photos and working from those. This was convenient and certainly sped up my working process, but as a method it did not help me to get to know my subjects - that is, apart from the few words we spoke before and after I took the photo. Some people I got to know better, through simply chatting with them over the breakfast, but others I never saw again. I made each portrait with many time-consuming layers of paint which in itself created a pause and encouraged the viewer to stop and contemplate, but my own preconceptions and initial impressions of each subject were prominent in the painting’s construction.
This prior experience led to my desire to avoid using photographic reference material in my current project. I want to know my subjects better, for each finished portrait to be a record of our interaction. Furthermore, my intention is to meet other people in my suburb through exploring existing social connections, thus placing them in a social context. While I originally intended to make sketches and then take them back to the studio to turn into paintings, a suggestion was made by my lecturer to increase the number of sketches per subject and to turn them into animations. Already having a prior interest in animation, I heartily took this up, and have not looked back since. With regard to recording duration, animation indeed does that, but in a pointedly linear fashion. The sketches, shown in sequence, present a narrative of the shifting and movement of the sitter during the time I was with them. As a drawn image, it also produces a pause in life - that of the time taken for the viewer to watch it.
Creating more sketches of my subjects does mean I spend more time with them. However this is an important part of my process as it lends the animated portraits more authenticity than if I were to work from photographs and increases their capacity to convey real aspects of the individual.
This shift in the form of my work to animated portraits led to my next area of exploration, that of portraiture in moving images.
“Put simply, the words ‘portrait’, ‘portraiture’ and ‘portrayal’ refer to the activities of artists and writers who make works to describe the individual human subject. The appeal of this type of work is that the successful portrait is both a revelation of the unique characteristics and qualities of the person as well as a reflection of general humanity.”(17)
Craig Judd made the above statement while discussing Dani Marti’s video portrait of Peter Fay. Marti is but one of a number of artists who through a process of filmed interview seek to explore and portray the human condition. Another is David Rosetzky: some of his earlier video works in the late '90’s feature personnel confessions from friends, exploring the interaction of public and personnel in an individual’s psyche within the context of ‘contemporary lifestyle culture’ (18). His 2008 video portrait of Cate Blanchette (commissioned by the National Portrait Gallery, Canberra) is in a similar vein: choreographed, highly stylized, and involving the subject speaking as in an interview (19).
(Stills from Portrait of Cate Blanchett, David Rosetzky, 2008, National Portrait Gallery, Canberra)
An important thing to note about the work of Rosetsky and Marti is its reference to film and the TV confessional. The two examples cited both focus on exploring and describing an individual: the subject is interviewed, and their responses form a part of the portrait. While it is important to acknowledge this method of human portrayal through video, this is certainly not the only way that video portraits have been made. There is a second distinctly different approach: namely, one that references painting. Here, the focus is not on intense self revelation through a combination of visuals and the spoken word, rather the impression is that of a photograph given movement; the artists do not necessarily seek to push and explore the potential of their medium but rather use video to imitate the stillness of painted portraiture.
From this second approach, many video portraits may be seen online (such as the two above) recording the faces of individuals who gaze awkwardly back into the camera, trying to hold a smile for the duration of the clip. Video portraitists such as Joan Logue record her subjects for ten to twenty minutes as they pose in silence. As stated on her website, she is a pioneer in this form of portraiture, having developed her practice from 1971 when a young African boy first stood in front of her camera and gazed into it. With regards to pioneering though, it must be noted that five years earlier, between 1964-1966, Andy Warhol made over 500 ‘film portraits’, also called ‘screen tests’. People who came into his factory were invited to stare into a camera for a number of minutes remaining as still as possible in order to test their ‘screen potential’. In this way, the film portraits of such people as Salvador Dali and Bob Dylanwere created.
Warhol’s screen tests have indeed had their influence, with experimental film makers such as Jeff Scher (who I will discuss later) citing them. Logue seems though to have started without knowledge of Warhol, and certainly continued with her video portraits for longer than the making of the ‘screen tests’. Used in such a prolific way, video portraiture seems to be a commercial development from the photograph or water colour portrait sketch of previous decades.
(Robert Wilson, Brad Pitt, 2004)
Another artist who has engaged with this medium is Robert Wilson. His take, however, is more developed, with its poetic overtones reflecting his background in theatre. Minimalistic and heavily referencing painting, his works push video towards creating the illusion of a still image, with the subtlest of movements in the subject suggesting otherwise. In the case of his 2004 portrait of Brad Pitt, Pitt is shown standing almost motionless, staring back at the camera against a blue lit wall. This, however, is soon to change, with the addition of rain, a fun yet slightly ominous soundtrack, and Pitt's own slow shift in position.
It may seem unusual to start speaking of video portraits in the context of an art practice that focuses on animation, but there appear to be distinct connections and shared concerns between animated portraits and their video counterparts - certainly enough to make a study of the latter informative in understanding the former, such as for considerations of sound track.
In order to construct my animated portraits I have made multiple sketches of each subject, some up to 25, and have digitally placed them in sequence, so as to create a slow animation of their shifts and changes in expression over the time of the sitting. The portrait is a record, so to speak, of our interaction, and my sketches are testament to part of whatever happened or was said during that time; they describe the subject during the brief part of their lives that I was with them.
In intent my work is not self-portraiture (20) (and here I acknowledge the problematic nature of this statement as any artist’s work could be considered in some way to have elements of self-portraiture in it - and here I am also grossly generalising). However, through my research I have found that the number of animated portraits that are self portraits appears to be disproportionately enormous compared with the number that depict people other than the animator. There are a lot of really interesting animated self-portraits around, and since they may be seen to distantly relate to my work through helping inform my animation technique or visual style, I am going to waste some space by listing a few of my discoveries:
(Animated self portraits 1989)
(Voices, animation self-portrait by Joanna Priestly, 1985).
(Self portrait animation by Estefania Sabogal, 2011)
Additionally, I simply cannot write about influences in animation technique and not mention William Kentridge. Methodologically he has a significant place in my animation background, however his animations are often political narratives that explicitly contain self-portraiture through inclusion of his own image. I am well acquainted, however, with his technique of working on a single piece of paper per shot, erasing and adding marks, then recording each change by filming it.
While this is not my main technique this year, it still makes up a part of my animation repertoire, from which I may draw if the situation suits.
(Above: Felix in Exile, 1994. Where the character Felix Teitelbaum resembles Kentridge).
In considering ways of animating my portraits, I also searched for other artists who work with the combination of these two elements. One artist whose work distinctly connects animation and film is Jeff Scher. A New-York based film maker, animator and painter, Scher makes vibrant animations by projecting a short section of film, slide by slide onto paper, then colouring in the image. Each slide is done in contrasting styles, creating a hand spun, psychotically vibrant effect.
In 2004 he made an animated portrait of Susan Shin, which appears to have been the start of a series, as more people soon commissioned him to do their own. This, however, was openly influenced by the work of Warhol, with the main difference between it and the ‘screen tests’ being Scher’s further processing of the filmed face into animation. Unlike other animated portraits, Scher’s portrait gives the eerie impression of being a single drawing copied and repeated in contrasting styles and colours over multiple frames which then raises its head before falling back into the same still position. The movement is so natural and fluid that the filmic reference shows through in a similar way that many paintings made from photos have a distinctive look of flatness.
For the last four years, Australian artist Julia Holden has also explored the connection between painting and animation. Through such animations as Muse (above) and Painter she looks at how faces are made up or put on to present to the world. These constitute hundreds of paintings that are recorded with a digital camera before being wiped off the board and another image painted on.
Compared with the number of animated self-portraits in existence, the number of artists whose practice gives a prominent place to the animated portrait of other people appears to be few (21). However, to add to Holden and Scher is the work of Julian Opie. Based on manipulation of his digital paintings, his animated portraits are a direct contrast to theirs. The animations are simple, presented in looping LED displays and generally come in two types. Many consist of figures side on, shown walking, while the rest are generally front-on with either the head or more of the body being depicted and small parts of the picture moving. The sheer number of named portraits produced by Opie could be seen as a community, a mass of beautiful middle-class individuals who are only distinct from each other by the variations in hair or dress.
I decided to do my own take on Opie’s style of animation. Here is a portrait of Cam, a boy who lives down the road from me on the top of a large building near Central station.
Here is also my take on Scher’s visual style. The portrait is of a lady called Mary, who I met in a drop-in centre around the corner. The soundtrack is also from the same place, representing the background noise of the sitting.
My project engages with a community of people, drawn from across sub-communities and presenting them together as a portrait of the suburb. This is in no way comprehensive, nor strictly representative, but tries to include people from across the socio-economic range of the area. With this aim in mind, it is an exercise in social mapping, as I explore the social connections I currently have within the suburb and meet my subjects through other people or gatherings.
When searching for other artists who also worked with portraiture and groups of people, I found two whose work is of particular proximity to mine. While these other artists do not seem to acknowledge an underlying faith as I do, their work is still of interest for comparison with my own project as they are other approaches of combining group portraiture and social action.
The first is Todd Drake. Drake has a blog titledmake art like you carewhich is dedicated to the combination of art with social action. In 2008 to 2009 he completed the Esse Quam Videri Project, where he facilitated the construction of a number of photographic self-portraits by Muslims living in North Carolina and Manama. The project title is the North Carolina state motto and means, ‘to be rather than to seem’. On this basis, Todd sought to emphasise the humanity of the American Muslim subjects and help break down barriers of animosity other Americans may have held against them. A website was also created to present the work. What I find interesting is observing how Drake made use of digital photography to aid in creating the portraits of a group. The snap-shot enabled the participants to present themselves as they wished in an immediate and potentially affordable fashion. While some subjects did make drawings of themselves, the photo also enabled other subjects who did not have such technical skills to participate in the self-presentation.
(Drake giving a video tour of the exhibition prior to the opening)
Another relevant community-centered portrait project that I found is one created by The Art Place, a not-for profit animation and art studio established in Suttons Bay, Michigan, and run by artists Ken Scott and Chris Allen Wickler. The Lunch Crowd (below) is a short film made up of a series of additive animations, based on photographs of a group of elderly people who share a Friday lunch together at the Suttons Bay Friendship Community Centre. People from children to 70-year olds were involved in the creation of the animations, coordinated by the two artists. The animations show the gradual revealing of the face, as lines are added, following the student as they draw from a photo. Audio is also used, with segments playing from some interviews with the subjects. I found this project an especially intriguing example as it employs not only group portraiture but animation as well. Likewise, its use of sound allows me to further consider the place and nature of this element in my own work.
In this animation of Kaye, I have included a recording of our conversation surrounding her typing. Despite the increasing distortion of the visuals, the sound ties the portrait back to our interaction, the start of the work itself.
At the end of the year I plan to have an exhibition in a venue in Surry Hills, where the local community may congregate and meet around the animated portraits. In particular those who I drew will be invited, with the hope that new relationships may form between people from different socio-economic circles. At the very least, people may get to know their neighbors better and it will be a community-building event. I have asked my church if I may use their hall, and if this goes ahead then that will provide a nice link between the project and my own entry point to community in the suburb.
Over the course of this blog I have tried to present both the major concerns of my art practice, its evolution in part, and the research that informs it. In the first few posts I considered the relationship between portraiture and human value (my content) with regards to a historical perspective, the reflection of this relationship in Australian-portraiture supporting institutions and the context of my Christian faith. The next couple of posts were concerned with my process and my reasons to want to better know my subjects. Following this were my explorations into other art practices that centered on portraiture through the moving image in order to develop the formal properties of my work. I began by researching video portraits - which can help with considerations of sound and composition - then moved on to animated portraits. From this latter type of portrait I examined self-portraits as well as practices that centered on portraits of others. These I found informative in developing my own animation technique. The final section was concerned with the use of portraiture in a community context, which I found helpful in considering the community impact of my own project.
Finally, the aim of this project is and has been to present the assertion that humans are valuable and equally so because of their being made in the image of God. This is in opposition to what appears to be a commonly held assumption of the connection between value and personal achievement in Australia. My work is not necessarily proposing a democratisation of the subjects of portraiture but rather a challenge for everyone to personally examine how they view and value people from different socio-economic situations. Would the homeless guy on the street corner be as welcome at your next dinner party as the rich and trendy couple from across the road?
