Try looking humble

What defines a good portrait? A clearly identifiable person- or animal? The skillful capture of an elusive trait? For centuries, the portrait was little more than elite propaganda. From a dictator’s head on a coin, through the haughty stance of Holbein’s Henry VIII, to the huge estate, in the background of Mr and Mrs Andrews. They were largely lacking in nuance or accuracy. The job of the artist was to consolidate an image of power and success. Nothing else mattered really, it was paid publicity. But times changed and so did portraits. Firstly, the image was softened - a cynic might say rebranded. Less armour, more flowers. People were also getting tired of all that frowning and looking fierce. So half-smiles were brought in to do the leg work. See we can be happy, look down we’re even holding hands. Then, photography. Perfect representations, captured through a lens. In the 1920s, this was very formal, families would put on their Sunday best for a portrait. It could be done quickly, and affordably. Just ten years later, in the golden age of Hollywood, gleaming stars would fill posters, magazines and cinemas. The men had to be a certain type: handsome, strong, thoughtful and often smoking. The women, mostly just beautiful. Portraits had become big business. But what of the painting at this time? Picasso had followed Cézanne into stealing ideas from photography. He introduced multiple perspective portraits, which many found confusing, ugly or just plain wrong. Wasn’t the whole point of art to make something beautiful? He thought not, and dared to question the narrative.

Today, we all have cameras in our pockets. And choose to turn them on ourselves rather than anything out there. So the selfie is perhaps the genre of our time. Staged and full of smiling - or pouting faces. Miniature self-portraits. As authentic and valuable as a politician’s guarantee. The more revealing pictures are all deleted.

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