The artist and their psychological state transmitting it’s way through history.
Shane Guffogg, 1998, Scene, Seen, Saw
Vinyl, acrylic and oil on wood panel, 30 x 23 in.
SHANE GUFFOGG: SELF -PORTRAITS, Part 1
(A conversation between Victoria Chapman and Shane Guffogg continues)
The history of self-portraits dates back centuries – they are easy to spot in early Egyptian art, Greek/Roman Mythology, and more. It’s no surprise that upon exiting the Middle Ages and entering the 15th century or early Renaissance – when artists began to separate from kingdoms – the self-portraiture became more common in search of identity and questioning of humanity.
VC: I think in the beginning artists conveniently used themselves as a model for the paintings they wanted to create and that made perfect sense. Albrecht Dürer (1471 – 1528) began drawing self-portraits at an early age and continued throughout his career. He also did something interesting by painting himself as someone else. Self-Portrait with Fur Collar (1500) is an example of this, as it looks like Dürer enhanced his own features to portray himself as Jesus Christ or what was thought to represent that image [Leonardo da Vinci’s Salvator Mundi, painting (1500), is a great example]. The contrast of the dark background in relation to the golden light casting on one side of the figure signals to the viewer that this person is uniquely special. This symbolism of the finger-pointing upward, the steady stare of his eyes, the symmetry of his facial features, and the glistening light that is casting down from above, washing over the right side of his face, catching his raised fingers, and highlighting the curly waves of his long hair. There is a sense of spiritual awareness. Nuremberg city council had this painting on view for more than 200 years, so it was not considered a mockery. Dürer painted this portrait when he was 28 years old and he had already achieved success with earlier self-portraits such as Self-Portrait, (1493) where he dressed himself in Italian clothes, suggesting he reached international success. Do you think he was portraying the artist as creator in Self-Portrait with Fur Collar? Dürer continued to make other self-portraits when depicting biblical scenes, The Sudarium Displayed by Two Angels (1513), engraving on paper and the painting, Christ as Man of Sorrows (1493) are a few to mention. What are your thoughts and what do you think Dürer was trying to say?
Albrect Dürer, 1500, Self-Portrait with Fur Collar,
Oil on lime panel, 26 x 19 in.
Leonardo da Vince, 1500, Salvator Mundi (Savior of the World)
Oil on walnut panel, 25.8 x 19 in.
Shane Guffogg: I am not as well-versed on Dürer as I am Rembrandt, but I do remember reading that he was a very religious man and saw the miracle of God in every living creature. His painting titled Young Hare from 1502 is a great example of his philosophy and religious beliefs. The attention to detail is remarkable. We look at it now and it looks like a rabbit was put in a light-box to be perfectly photographed. But this was Durer recording the details of the fur, etc. With a brush!
I think it is fascinating that you connected Dürer's self-portrait with the Leonardo painting, Salvator Mundi. They are so similar and painted the same year, 1500. We know they weren't hopping on a plane to visit each other, or sending each other pictures of what they were working on via text, and it is very doubtful someone was traveling and visiting both artist's studios and relaying information. But there they are – two portraits that look as if they were made side by side, each taking from the other. Dürer was a supreme draftsman and his attention to detail was all based on his observations, so I would think he saw himself as a messenger for God, translating the wonders of our world through his art. Based on that idea, his self-portrait from 1500 could be mistaken for a religious portrait of Christ. I feel that artists were more revered back then. Imagine walking into a room and seeing either of those paintings for the first time. It must have seemed otherworldly due to the fact that images like that were not plastered around town or printed in magazines or available with a click of a button on your phone or TV. It was pure magic that transcended their every day life and that is where the power of the images existed. They are still powerful for us to look at today as they communicate in a wordless language that transcends our time and place just as it must have done then. But the art connects us to that past, transcending time.
Albrecht Dürer, 1513, The Sudarium Displayed by Two Angels, Engraving, print: 4 1/16 x 1 11/16 in.
Albrecht Dürer, 1502, Young Hare
Watercolor, 9.9 x 8.9 in.
VC: Rembrandt’s self-portraits were a vital part of his career – he created more than any other artist to date. For Rembrandt, these paintings referenced a symbolic measurement of time that recorded his life. Looking at these we see the many stages he went through; we can feel his pain, happiness, and sorrow, and all the while, we are reminded by our own life experiences. When you set off for Europe the day after you graduated high school in 1980 and came across Rembrandt’s self-portrait at the National Gallery, did you see a fraction of yourself in his work? What did it tell you? And why did you rush back to paint yourself in his cloak?
Shane Guffogg: Great question. I had never really seen any of the old masters works in person but had checked out every art book the local library had, plus my art teacher would bring art books for me to look at. I was anxious to stand in front of a Leonardo or Rembrandt to see what they saw in person. From a very early age, while looking through my mom's handful of art books, I was mesmerized on that a person could take a tube of paint (or pigment mixed with linseed oil) and by applying it in the right way, could turn this colored toothpaste-like substance into something else. I thought that was magic. At around 4 or 5, I decided I too wanted to be able to make magic. I would become a magician.
When I arrived in London (traveling with a childhood friend), we came across a sign that said National Gallery with an arrow. I was very naive then and didn't know much about galleries or museums but felt this was the sign to follow. I remember checking our backpacks and walking in. I was breathless feeling the weight of history all around me. And then I saw it - Rembrandt's last self-portrait at 63. I felt something I had never experienced as I walked up to this painting. It was if my mind had suddenly been turned on, or tuned in to a different frequency. I could see all the colors he used, each one – yellow ochre, cadmium light red, burnt sienna – as if they were still on his palette. His use of glazes created the effects of translucent skin with the greens and grays peering through the top flesh-toned layers. I could see every brushstroke as if I were looking into a microscope. It felt like all this information was being downloaded into my brain at that moment. On parts of his face, like his nose, the paint was thick, as if the paint was a physical representation of his own flesh and not just an illusion. He is somber, looking out at us, and at that moment, as I stood there, it was 311 years after he had made the painting. But there he was, looking back at me, tired and weary from his life. He is humble as he covers one hand with the other, as if to hide or protect an injury. He looks as if he has just turned towards us, away from what is in front of him, off the canvas and beyond our view. His red cloak almost disappears into the background, but his face is in full view, as if someone to the front and left of the picture frame was shining a spotlight, perfectly positioned to capture the time weathered lines. He wants us to see him, look at him, feel what he is feeling. It is not a vanity project – it is a recorded moment, by a master of light, caught for all eternity.
Rembrandt, Self-Portrait at the Age of 63
Oil on canvas, 34 x 27.8 in
Rembrandt's pigments shown on display at Rembrandt House Museum, Amsterdam
Shane Guffogg: I decided right then that I had to see every Rembrandt painting there was to see in the world. A month and a half later I went to his home in Amsterdam and to the Rijksmuseum, soaking it all in, every detail of every one of his paintings. But his self-portraits are the works that struck me the deepest because he was opening himself up, asking us to witness his human experiences – his dreams, triumphs, success, and economic demise.
Rembrandt did a self-portrait when he was in the throes of financial ruins that, for me at 18, was the place I wanted to start. He had accumulated so much debt that his home, art collection and belongings were auctioned off due to his bankruptcy. One would think he would have painted himself looking depressed, upset, or in a state of disrepair. Instead, he puts on clothing that would have been worn a century earlier by Italian Renaissance masters, like Titian or Raphael, and painted himself as the heir of their legacy. He sits like a king on a throne, looking out over his people, listening and watching as the crowd awaits his words. He is imagining himself as someone who is beyond what society declares him to be. He paints himself as a master who has powers to turn straw into gold. He is an alchemist, a magician in the truest sense. He is not allowing what others think to define him, instead he is projecting his image into the future by aligning with the past. That is where I wanted to begin and so I took my cue from Rembrandt to paint myself in his clothing, which was in fact, Rembrandt doing the same thing, but three centuries earlier!
Shane Guffogg, 1981, Self-Portrait as Rembrandt
Oil on canvas, 36 x 24 in.
Shane Guffogg, 1981 Self-Portrait #2
Oil on canvas, 12 x 10 in.
VC: That is such an amazing story. I wonder how many other aspiring artists were led into the National Gallery in a similar fashion. When I was working at the Isabella Stewart Gardener Museum in the mid to late 80s, I often requested to work in the Dutch Room where there were four works by Rembrandt. There was a Lady and a Gentlemen in Black, (1663) a mostly black and white painting depicting a wealthy couple in period clothing of the time, Self-Portrait of Rembrandt at 23, which had a memorable jade background and playful long feather in his cap. The later painting is my favorite – young Rembrandt coming into his own. Then there was this tiny etching, Portrait Of The Artist As A Young Man (1633) which was more of a sober and serious feeling Rembrandt. Across the room was Christ In the Storm on the Sea of Galilee (1633) which bore a figure on the boat that was Rembrandt, another self-portrait. Over the next three years, I would spend countless hours in the Dutch Room overlooking these works as a security guard. I never grew tired of them, always excited to be with my secret pal, Rembrandt. I could feel his sense of being. The Lady and Gentlemen in Black had a feeling that one could almost sense that two people were next to you. I never felt alone standing in the Dutch Room, which would often be an eight-hour shift. I walked around the room at the top of the hour, peeking in on each work, smiling, like I had a secret. It was if Rembrandt was there with me and these self-portraits had something in common. In his self-portrait, Christ on the Sea of Galilee, which is a scene taken from the New Testament (Mathew, 8), Rembrandt painted a ship with a group of people in a storm at sea. Each person on the boat is trying to do their job to save the boat with some clearly in a state of panic. But there is one person looking straight at us, holding one hand on a rope leading to the sails and the other trying to keep his hat. This is Rembrandt. What is he telling us? It’s important to mention there are symbolic dark clouds covering a great deal of the composition and crashing waves are smashing against the boat. Will they make it? Then out of nowhere, a space of golden white clouds reveals themselves and a light shines in on the side of the boat. The idea that hope may come into play and Rembrandt and some of the crew may be saved. Why did Rembrandt paint himself in this composition? I think Rembrandt reveals his transparency and with it, he sets the stage for you to reveal yours. Do you think he purposely set out to document the stages of his life? When you painted yourself as Rembrandt as an older man you were setting the stage for a very long career. Since that first portrait you have continued to draw and paint yourself. What are you telling us thorough your years, making of self-portraits?
Rembrandt, 1629, Self-Portrait at Age 23
Oil on oak panel, 35 5/16 x 28 15/16 in.
Shane Guffogg, 1981, Self-Portrait at 18
Oil on canvas, 24 x 18 in.
Shane Guffogg: Rembrandt often puts himself in the picture of a historical scene, and he is often looking out at us, almost as if he is saying, “can you believe I am here on this boat with Jesus and his followers? I think he is also poking his finger at the church or establishment by portraying himself as a time traveler who pops in and out of historical moments.
And for the more formal self-portraits, in the beginning we can see how he is learning to play with light and what the textures of the paint surface can do. Then he found success and he paints himself as regal, in possession of the holy grail. But when he lost his wife, Saskia, followed by his bankruptcy, we begin to see a man who is vulnerable, with a look of deep sadness in his eyes. It is so strange to think that he was looking in a mirror and not at us. But maybe the mirror was actually a portal for him to look through and at us? Just a thought. I have stood in front of most of his self-portraits and in some, it is as if he is breathing. They are truly amazing works of art. I recall walking into a room at the Rijkmuseum and there were portraits hung by the dozens of Dutch artists from that era, all hung side by side, salon-style. All of the portraits were great and way beyond what artists seem capable of doing now. Rembrandt's work just stood out. It was as if he knew a secret ingredient or technique that he employed, elevating his work to the highest level.
I did take a cue from Rembrandt at an early age and started looking in the mirror to capture different facial expressions, often using a pencil so they were quick and gestural. As I continued painting, the portraits became more like a diary, as I used different techniques and styles to express different emotions. This is what is now called appropriation in the post-modern art world lexicon, but I wasn't aware of such labels then. I saw that all of art history was part of my past and was available to use as a vehicle of expression.
Rembrandt, 1633, Storm on the Sea of Galilee
Oil on canvas, 62.99 x 50.39 in. (see Rembrandt in the red cap)
VC: From my research, I learned that Rembrandt created some of these self-portraits as well as other paintings as marketing material. It wasn’t just about capturing expressions, it was a cataloging of the types of works he could do and that he was the best at it. The artist was able to capture life in all shapes and forms – he displayed the boredom of models and the truth of their bodies, which weren’t ideal renderings of beautifully shaped bodies. Self-Portrait with Two Circles, 1665-1669, is an interesting work. His face appears to be finished but other parts of the work seem unfinished. What do you think he is telling us and what do you think the two circles in the background mean? It appears, through this painting, Rembrandt was beginning to take an inward journey. We know this was one of his last paintings or maybe it was his last. What I love about your work is that your paintings are an inward journey. It seems like where Rembrandt left off in this painting you continued the dialogue, creating your own language and pictorial field to resonate with the viewer to explore a passage of time and an internal refuge to find oneself. Abstract paintings are autobiographical by nature, but what you do is something more, though color and movement, including adding your own physicality. Even your most recent self-portraits inspired by cubism reference something unique.
Shane Guffogg, 1982, Self-Portrait series Pencil on paper, 14 x 11 in.
Shane Guffogg, 1982, Self-Portrait series
"I did take a cue from Rembrandt and at an early age and started looking in the mirror and capturing different facial expressions, often using pencil so they were quick and gestural. As I continued painting, the portraits became more like a diary, as I used different techniques and styles to express different emotions." - SG
Shane Guffogg: That painting with the 2 circles is an amazing work of art. First thing to realize is that, if he were looking in a mirror, it would appear to us that he is left-handed and he would be holding his palette and brushes in his right hand. But he was right-handed, so he most likely used two mirrors, and painted from the mirrored image of the second mirror that was reflecting the image of the first mirror, righting the image. As for the circles, there is a famous story of Giotto being summoned by the pope to prove his artistic skills. Giotto took a piece of chalk and drew a perfect circle without hesitation. That is very hard to do. The Pope was wowed and he got the commission. Maybe Rembrandt is referencing that, but he doesn't paint a complete circle – he paints two uneven halves and places himself in front of the circle on our left. If you follow that line, it runs through the right side of his face. The circle on the left is painted with a dimension, with the part of the arc closest to him being brighter. Here is what I think he is telling us; The two circles represent two things, first, he is showing us the direction of his double light source that is painted into his self-portrait, because that arc of the circle is exactly where the light falls on him, and second, the passing of time. He is casting a slight shadow on the circle he stands in front of and if it were the face of a clock, it would be 6 o'clock. Now look at his face – the light source is coming from the upper left side of the canvas and illuminating what would be the right side of his face. There is no way a shadow would be cast on the bottom of the circle with the direction of light he has painted. If anything the shadow would be on the other circle. One last clue is the circle on the right side of the painting goes off the canvas right in the middle of the circle, being six and twelve on a clock. His elbow dissects the other circle in the same spot. And to make sure we see it, his maul stick and palette both point to the bottom of each circle. He started the painting in 1665, so he was turning 60. He worked on the painting for four years, and he died in 1669, at the age of 63. The circles are a symbolic measurement of his life, and he recognized his time was running out. He is dressed in his painting attire, no-frills and showmanship, just a very honest moment as he recognizes his own mortality.
Rembrandt, 1665-1669, Self-Portrait with Two Circles
Oil on canvas, 45 x 37 in.
VC: Jumping from the 16th to 19th century, there were many painter’s that made self-portraits, but the paintings that were created after the French Revolution, largely due to the overturn of society, were about sex, violence, and truth, which revealed much individualism. Eugène Delacroix (1798-1863) was one painter that produced this type of imagery. Often creating paintings related to his travels to North Africa, Self-Portrait of 1837 is intense. The light in this portrait begins in the background and moves to the foreground. The eyes of Delacroix look to the distance. Moving away from the Age of Enlightenment to Modernity, individuality plays a key role. Realist painter Gustave Courbet (1819-1877) championed this notion and continued to paint the world as he saw it. His manifesto, Realisme, claimed art should be portrayed how it really is and should not be appropriated by society’s standards. Self-portrait, The Desperate Man (1843-1845) is a raw and harrowing view of a man in desperation. Courbet went on to make paintings like The Sleepers (1866) which resulted in a police report and Origin of the World (1866), a painting of a woman with a view of her genitalia.
Eugène Delacroix, 1837, Self-Portrait of the Artist
Oil on canvas, 25.5 x 21.4 in.
Gustave Courbet, 1844 - 1845, The Desperate Man
Oil paint, 13 x 19 in.
Shane Guffogg, 1982, Self-Portrait as a Painter
Oil on canvas, 42 x 36 in.
VC: Edouard Manet’s (1832-1883) intense gaze into the ordinary in Luncheon on the Grass and Olympia (1863) shows the artist not only painting the world around him but absorbing us as the viewer into it. Both paintings, share the main subject, a nude woman without shame in a bedroom in one painting and sitting on the grass with a group having lunch in another. Manet masterfully aligns the viewer with the protagonist, so much so that at first glance, I am not sure what the painting is about. It’s a tricky but brilliant shift to involve the viewer as a participant. What do you think of this period and its influence on self-portraits? Did you introduce any of these methods into your works?
Shane Guffogg: Both of the artists that you mention were charging forward and leading the way for the new world. Manet's Luncheon on the Grass borrows from Italian renaissance master's, Raphael, and Titian. But what he did so brilliantly was to borrow from the past and pull it into what he thought the future should be. I think it was clever for him to take established imagery (thus familiar to us) and use that as a setting. I guess we could say he was one of the first appropriators, or in another medium, it would be akin to musicians sampling music. But Manet and Courbet wanted to say, "Stop daydreaming about the past and live in the now. Stop making historical paintings of bygone eras with imaginary angels and make paintings that address what our needs and wants are now. Stop editing paintings to be politically correct and start pushing the envelope and expose the realities of life." Courbet's self-portrait is confrontational: he stands looking at something in shock as if he has just witnessed an accident that will change the course of history. He is not poised, self-contained with his emotions, and looking regal – he is looking at his world with great anxiety. His light source is singular and coming from the left side of the canvas like a spotlight, illuminating his forehead as he pulls his hair back with one hand, and seemingly pulling his hair with the other. It now reads like a still from an Alfred Hitchcock movie. I think it is interesting to note that Photography was invented in France in 1839 and Courbet's self-portrait was done in 1843-1845 when he was just 25.
In both of the artist's works, they wanted to undo the past by painting with quick, gestural brushstrokes, leaving the refinement of the Renaissance behind and if anything, taking their cues from the late paintings of Rembrandt. This need to expose the process of painting as a way of telling a truth about the realities of life versus the perfect paintings of Ingres, would open the door for Cezanne and then cubism. But it was the artists' self-portrayal that lets us know they were not history painters of the past. They were revolutionists that were challenging the world to see the future.
Edouard Manet, 1863, The Luncheon on the Grass
Oil on canvas, 81.9 x 104.1 in.
Stay tuned for more conversations
Victoria Chapman
Studio Manager
A very special thanks to Monica Edwards for editing.
Note: all images shown in this email are (fair use) public domain