One
of the great delights of the current show of masterpieces from the Scottish National Gallery is
discovering an artist who has been off of my radar: Allan Ramsay (1713-1784).
After standing transfixed before the portrait of his beautiful bride, I
have to find ways of viewing his wonderful art in person.
Sadly,
the one negative of viewing this wonderful piece is the awful security forces
at the Frick. It would seem as if they
were trained expressly to keep people from engaging with the masterworks on
display.
While
there, one guard in particular – a Pearl
W. according to her name tag – admonished people for gesticulating in front
of the pictures, looked over another visitor’s shoulder while she was making
notes, and scolded your correspondent for taking off his glasses to lean in for
a closer look. She – and most of the
security team at the Frick – should not be in a business where they have to
interact with the public.
But,
back to the picture -- Margaret Lindsay
married Ramsay against her family’s wishes.
She had been taking drawing lessons from Ramsay, and was an accomplished
artist in her own right. When the two
fell in love, Ramsay wrote to her father, ensuring him that he could care for
his daughter, despite supporting a daughter from his first marriage, as well as
his two sisters.
Her
father, from the Clan Murray and with strong Pro-Jacobite ties, strongly believed
that the marriage was beneath his daughter.
However, marry they did, and remained happily together, producing three
children.
Ramsay
and his wife spent the early part of their lives together touring Italy,
including Rome, Florence, Naples and Tivoli.
There, they were engaged in antiquarian pursuits, and spent time copying
old masters. He also made considerable
money painting portraits of tourists.
Returning
home in 1761, Ramsay became a painter in the court of George III. There, he worked
mainly as a portraitist, and the king commissioned so many royal portraits to
be given to ambassadors and colonial governors that Ramsay had to employ
multiple assistants.
Ramsay
retired from painting for literary pursuits.
He was also nursing a disability caused by accidently dislocating his
right arm, and further stymied by the death of his beloved wife in 1782.
He
soon returned to Italy, where he had been happiest, and died there in 1784.
Well
… what can one say about this beautiful and haunting portrait that is not
evident simply by looking at it? There is
minimal background detail – just a simply suggested doorway and bit of lintel
that is almost invisible in this photo, but quite noticeable in the actual
picture.
This
Spartan background does well to heighten the placid beauty of Mrs. Ramsay. But her placidity never denotes coldness –
quite the contrary, her frank gaze and gentle smile denote considerable warmth and
tenderness.
Her
tenderness is underscored by the flower she holds; however, her surroundings
seem not to register with her as much as her gaze at we, the viewer. This is a frankly engaging look, and she
looks at us with honesty and without defenses.
It is a frank and open countenance, full of benevolence and a touch of
nurturing motherliness.
Ramsay
has mastered details without ever becoming fussy. Look at the bit of blue lace that adorns her
hair, or, better yet, look at the intricate notes of her shawl. It is exquisitely rendered without ever becoming
precious, just as the vase suggests a world of detail without ever becoming
formal in its composition.
Speaking
of composition – look at Ramsay’s flawless sense of composition. The line of Margaret’s arm, lower arm and
hand lead the eye down, then up, and directly back to the head. Simple, yet such basic building blocks are
essential in the success of a work; the eye is in constant movement, and we are
held by the force of her personality and her husband’s artistry.
It
is no mistake that the blue lace that adorns her hair points to her broad and
noble brow, as well as her clear and lovely eyes. The grace, poise and ease of Mrs. Ramsay are
remarkable, and it is no wonder the artist adored her.
Tomorrow, we return
to the Frick for a look at John Constable.
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