Continuing our series looking at great paintings housed in London’s National Gallery…
Bellini’s Doge Leonardo Loredan is a commanding portrait in two senses: the subject has an unmistakably authoritative presence; and, like the Arnolfini Portrait, the painting hogs viewers’ attention in its room (62, in the Sainsbury Wing).
It has in common with Van Eyk’s masterpiece a convincing depth, the more striking for being surrounded by ‘flat’ 16th Century contemporaries. But whereas the Arnolfini couple have a sort of pixie-like charm which raises a smile, there’s a sternness and also a sadness to the Doge’s depth.
Leonardo Loredan (1436-1521) was the Doge (head of state) of the Venetian Republic. He’s dressed in suitably ridiculous ceremonial gear – purposefully-roughed paint brings out the gold thread in his frock, and the hat, with its pointy rear, must be amongst the silliest on record, yet there’s a melancholy truth about the man’s gaze which forbids any sniggering.
It’s do with the light. This picture actually adorns the cover of one of the current National Gallery companion guide books (which, considering the choice of more famous paintings, is testament to its power to grab) and the author Erika Langmuir claims that Bellini achieves a “meditation on old age” with Doge Leonardo Loredan.
Her theory, which I will précis, is that by graduating the background blue (getting lighter from top to bottom), Bellini evokes the sky, and by casting the left half of the Doge’s face in shadow Bellini suggests that he is looking into sunlight. Because the sun is low but not yet setting the viewer gets a hint of time passing and this, “combined with Loredan’s aged face, recalls the old comparison between the duration of a day and the span of human life, and the inevitable coming of the night.”
Far be it from me to try to improve on that interpretation. But whether you buy the theory or not, the Doge Leonardo Loredan surely manages something which is, when you think about it, a bit miraculous. We stop and stare at a portrait of a long dead man who means nothing to us; and we think about ourselves and everyone we know and everyone who has ever been. This is what art can do and, at the National, it’s free.
I personally think his hat is quite cool – it seems a bit sci-fi to me. In fact, the whole picture looks very ‘modern’.
Here’s an odd thing, Francesco da Mosto never once mentioned that conkers were the default pastime amongst the toffs of Venice. Perhaps that’s how they chose their Doge “ere mush, you’re the conker champ. it’s your turn and you can wear your conkerests.” Any rate, best Doge style hat was that bloke Prospero’s, was he wearing conkers? perhaps the sound of them clanking inspired Nyman’s soundtrack, his music sounds nuts, don’t you think.
Nice pic, now that’s wot I call a review, eat your heart out Waldemar, less waffle, more “that’s a nice pic”
It is an excellent, and extremely evocative painting, but it makes me think of the characters on the old Cluedo cards.
I do view Malty’s take on this as highly credible. On first view, and without reading the text, I thought it was a picture of a poor chap hit on the noggin by a wayward conker; then decided it was a French onion seller, but the lack of a bike and beret killed that; then thought it was Prince Phillip at the State Opening of Parliament, then thought it was the face of M & S fashion, but reasoned Twiggy would always look this way rather that way; then, finally, became almost convinced it was a portrait of Methuselah as a young man. Then I gave up and read the post.
On a less serious note, it is a great picture, leaving me in awe of the genius who painted it.
The only criticism I’d have of it is that the subject looks a bit too serene – or even saintly – to be a politician. I suppose they must have existed though.