I know, I know! I am always coming back to the practicality and versatility of the forever white shirt: how essential and easy it is as a building block for everyone’s wardrobe. That said it should come as no surprise that white is a primary color for me.
For example, out my window across the road in Connecticut is a white barn that pops out in front of the bare trees as the sun sets. White jeans and jackets are so crisp that they emerge from the dark layered silhouettes of winter clothes. This is the way my brain works.
Over the holidays I received two books. Both were books on John Singer Sargent I subtly suggested as Christmas presents (“If anyone wants to give me a present, I would love …”) books on John Singer Sargent. He is one of my absolute favorite painters. One book covers the works and history of this amazing painter, more of a coffee table book. The other is about his relationship with the art dealer Asher Wertheimer, a loyal patron and great friend who commissioned 12 portraits of his family. *An aside: the Wertheimer family has owned Chanel for decades.
If you have been to the Met, you may have seen the striking portrait of Madame X. Its notoriety goes back to a scandal at the Paris Salon exhibit in 1884. The subject, Mme. Gautreau, of dubious morality and rumored infidelities, is rendered in a “sexually suggestive” manner. It is a remarkable painting that will stop you in your tracks. Long story short, Sargent modified the strap on her right shoulder to be “slipping” rather than having “slipped off.” Quelle horreur!
If this is all you have heard about John Singer Sargent, please read on!
There is so much to love about his work but for the purposes of this newsletter I want to consider the contrasts and his use of “white.” Sometimes white for Sargent is actually varying colors of icy blues, reflecting light and shadows in a scene outside on a sunny day. In the watercolor study of Madame X her skin seems to actually be the paper rather than being painted.
Many of the portraits he is known for are set in a windowless space with his subjects appearing to come from or move through a dark room. But it isn't a downer like some Rembrandts or Caravaggios or a Diane Arbus photograph. Often a background person or prop gives some depth and perspective, making sure the social status and a bit of arrogance have been made clear if they were ever in question.
