Reflection 3: A picture's worth a thousand words; A painting's worth a novel

I might as well write the weekly reflection while I've got the creative juices flowing. There's just something about writing at 4:00 am that says, "academia". (I edited this later, but I swear I really typed the bulk of it in the wee hours of the morning. And it was surprisingly coherent.)



I really enjoyed the National Portrait Gallery, which surprised me. I had imagined really old paintings of really dead people that I wouldnt know or care about. Instead I found many familiar faces and some profound works of art. I really understand now why the examination of portraits ties in with our class: it is not what is painted, but how it is depicted that matters. The "how" is what truely mattered to me anyways.



While perusing the gallery (at on point completely by myself, which was followed by a state of panic as I had no idea how to get to the metro station), I came across 2 portraits that really stood out to me. The first was of Martin Luther King Jr., the one at the end of the New Arrivals section. It really struck me because it wasn't a typical photo from a famous speech or protest. In fact, where or what he was doing was seemingly of no importance. Dr. King is resting his chin on interlocked fingers, staring contemplatively to the side. He looks more real, personally, than I have ever seen him. I felt like at any moment he would flick his eyes towards me and cast me in that powerful gaze. To me, he was not Martin Luther King, Jr., the ultimate figure head of the civil rights movement. He was a real person, with the weariness of every man in his eyes.



The second portrait I call my favorite is the one of Christopher Reeve. Here was the famous Superman actor, in his later years: bald and confined to a wheelchair. But in that painting, he looked every bit like Superman. The style really brought awe and power to his image. The deep contrast in the light and dark colors and background that looked like a pencil from a comic book. Christopher Reeve looked like his Superman character blown up from a comic page. He looks radiant and strong, a more favorable depiction of a man who became so confined later in his life.



The connection I have made between these two paintings is thus: what attracted me to them is that the ways the subjects have been depicted are destinctly unusual. Dr. King is caught in a rare, presonal pose. Christopher Reeve looks like the super hero of his prime when he was surely no longer in his prime. The portrait tells a story of the person. The portrait gallery is a museum of history. It is for the people to see depictions of great people and the greatness they contributed to history. The artwork helps relay their character to the lucky viewers. It gives stiking visuals, visuals with layers that tell their own hidden story.