About portraits and stories

It is always delightful to read anything by Margaret Forster, so imagine our excitement when we read an article by her in The Guardian where she talks about the Pillar Portrait (see that picture on top of our sidebar). We recommend reading the whole article if you are interested either on Art, biography, study of character or even a feminism of sorts. Or if you like reading great prose full of knowledge. You really can't go wrong with Margaret Forster.

Every biographer needs a portrait of their subject before they can even begin to think of how to delineate a life and if none is available the loss is felt immediately. It is such a simple, almost crude, question: what did he or she look like? Should it matter? Perhaps not, but it does. The painted portrait tried to give the answer before the advent of photography (though each medium provides a different answer), but it was always constrained by the demands of the times in which it was being painted. The painter was not necessarily trying to achieve an exact likeness - the face, for centuries, was the least important part of the portrait. What mattered was giving an impression of status - it was the clothes, the jewels, the background that spoke loudest. [...]
It is a shock as well as a thrill to arrive at Branwell Brontë's group portrait of his sisters. In painterly terms, this might be a roughly executed work but it banishes completely the idea of a portrait being about status or decoration. This is about character, about women who are struggling to fulfil dreams and finding it hard. The clothes are hardly noticed - a vague impression of dull black or green dresses, a hint of poor-looking muslin or cheap lace around the shoulders, and that is all. There are no jewels, not a necklace or earring in sight. What draws the eye is the facial expressions, Charlotte's mouth set in almost a grim line, Emily and Anne with sullen pouts. There is an impatience about the grouping, as if the artist was having to beg them to stay there just a moment longer - but no, they are not going to, they are not vain, they don't care enough to take the trouble to pose properly. The essence of these lives is caught, the spirit of the women, and gives rise to all kinds of theories about them, none of which can be proved - every interpretation is valid - but that is what makes the portrait so moving.

And there lies the genius of Margaret Forster. With a few words and seemingly so effortlessly she manages to put into words what we all knew about this portrait but could hardly elaborate. No false step or hesitation: she treads on firm ground.

Apparently the excuse for this wonderful column is that the National Portrait Gallery has organised a Portrait Award:

The winners of the BP Portrait Award will be announced on Tuesday; the exhibition is at the National Portrait Gallery, London, from June 15 to September 17. Details: 020-7306 0055, www.npg.org.uk. This is an edited extract from BP Portrait Award, published by the National Portrait Gallery. Margaret Forster's novel, Keeping the World Away, inspired by the life of Gwen John, is published by Chatto & Windus

Then we move onto another article in The Guardian where Sarah Waters's Fingersmith is reviewed:

This glancing ahead to what is to come (called prolepsis) is often used by novelists who relish their own plots (Fielding and Dickens are peculiarly addicted to it). Sue's narrative is peppered with these hints at, as she puts it, "what happened later". As in Jane Eyre or Great Expectations, the first-person narrator withholds her knowledge for the sake, as we say, of a good story. She knows in advance the narrative surprise that comes at the end of the novel's first section, yet we must be allowed to experience it with a little of the jolt that she is supposed to have felt.

Hmmm... yes, but that is also done for chronological reasons and to get you into the story, isn't it? It wouldn't do if Jane Eyre started with "Reader, I married him". It would simply lose all its effect.

Categories: Art-Exhibitions, Brontëana