08 December 2012


And then,... I almost fell in love with this young woman who graced a large wall at the Courtauld Institute.....and what an idiot that I assumed I could easily access the name of this painter from the web site without noting the painter's name in my notebook!.. It is an unusual thing indeed to feel such an unadulterated attraction for the subject  in a painting (A woman in my case). But it does happen from time to time. When I was 20 and walking through the Prado I stumbled across a Portrait of St Marguerite by Titian and I felt this same thing; this overwhelming emotion for a fictitious woman! Not made of blood and skin but of oil and turpentine. It was a very odd sensation especially so considering my age. Romantic, yes I am, but also cynical in the real world of words of love... but this is another story...

This portrait, I believe was painted by a Dutch man who had emigrated to Britain in the late 17th century. But I will have to confirm all this somehow. (Their site is not welcoming to this kind of research without a name) However,  there is something so compelling in her regard; so fragile and uncertain.... maybe a broken heart.. but then of course all of this comes from the painter's own heart I believe. Her dress seems like a costume from the Renaissance. Her hands are well done, reminding me of Rembrandt. Indeed her expression reveals that kind of piety one sees in Rembrandt's portraits. Only a delicate hint of sensuality in the treatment of how the dress slides around her bosom... ah,...more to be revealed.

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