ALL JOURNAL ENTRIES

Dulma Altan

1. For the self portrait, I've chosen Rembrandt's Self Portrait Age 51, a work from 1657 currently located in the National Gallery of Edinburgh in Scotland.

The painting is immediately eye-catching. The expression seems to be that of a living, breathing soul caught in a canvas: the topography of the face is exquisitely realistic, each wrinkle and shadow gruesomely exposed, the slight blushed tinge of his exposed cheek hinting life beneath the features, the subtle asymmetry of his facial features rejecting all idealization—these all combine as technically skillful elements that comprise a portrait that is so much more than the sum of its well-executed parts.

HIs eyes are haunting—perhaps haunted as well. The weariness of the sagging skin surrounding each of them suggests a soul that has weathered decades of the storms of life. Though the eyes themselves are darkened with a complex brew of what appears like sorrow, questioning, exhaustion, even a sort of spiritual turmoil, they are hardly the most well-defined features, since the pupils are barely distinguished from the irises, whites of the eyes hardly visible in stark contrast to the illuminated features of the rest of his face.

Indeed, this illumination, so characteristic of Rembrandt, is mysterious. Where does this light come from? Why does it only fall upon his face, his forehead highlighted the brightest  while his clothing, hat, and the backdrop behind him are enveloped in a velvety darkness? It's for this reason that I may've felt so drawn to the painting: the light seems to be coming from the artist himself. It's an internal light, perhaps of his creative genius, that is reflected upon his surface appearance. 

One can hardly claim this face to be conventionally beautiful, yet this illumination and the incredible depth of realness and soul behind the expression lend the subject a sort of honor, importance. His glance holds so much humanity that we can't help but feel our own turmoils reflected in him. A kinship arises out of understanding, sympathy.

2. Hamlet being the literary masterpiece par excellence that explores the depth of the "Self," it is an interesting task to explore the implications of its themes in the context of the artwork of the portraitist whose works seem (and this is purely conjectural) to aim to do the same.

First of all, the very first line is the essence of the entire play in Hamlet: "Who's there?" demands Bernardo of his fellow guard, Francisco. So who is there? With Shakespeare, we never get a definitive answer to any of the deepest questions in that any viable interpretation can be countered with an equally acceptable one, both drawing from the text. As a tangent, this may be what I've always loved about Shakespeare: Truth is explored but responses to the Big Questions are always multiple, complex, seemingly within reach but one reread of the text is liable to prove you wrong. In other words, his plays are a reflection of life.

What does this imply for Rembrandt? I think his primary question was the very same. "Who's there?" With Shakespeare, words are his tools on the path to truth and with the Dutch master, the strokes of his brush, one imagines, were his primary means of exploring both the nature of selfhood as well as the possibility of using art (visual) to convey and examine these themes. I suppose I'm already making the presumption that Rembrandt didn't churn out self-portrait after self-portrait due to a narcissistic self-obsession in the negative meaning of the term. He was Self-obsessed, rather. (Note: To me, the "Self" is the truth of identity, the self that spiritual traditions and mystical practices point to. But I wouldn't necessarily separate the arts from potentially being equally preoccupied with this notion, and maybe even equally effective in conveying its truths.)

In the portrait I've chosen of his, we can see that traditional and perhaps more superficial motives behind self-portraiture (and portraiture in general) could not have been his motives: he does not idealize his own features by any stretch of the imagination, given his fear-struck gaze and his unabashedly portrayed wrinkles, for example. Beauty is not his aim. Nor can self-preservation be (or can it?). One who wishes to immortalize oneself in a painting would surely opt for better lighting and a more serene expression. Nice clothes. An attractive background to display success or wealth.

Yet here, the sole attention is focused on the figure's face. Externalizing interiority (through painting—what a feat!) seems to be the primary means of establishing the idea that, yes, this painting is all about what lies beneath what you directly perceive. Hence my conclusion that this self-portrait, like many of Rembrandt's others, is another exercise in examining himself and perhaps even the identity of man/woman in general.

3. The Taming of the Shrew is all about doubles. Scenes, people, events, and behaviors are all doubled again and again, and usually with a twist. Petruchio attempts to mimic his shrew wife's intolerably difficult behavior, but to far greater degree and to different ends. Bianca and Kate are sisters who reveal themselves both to have potential qualities that are typically considered to be the defining traits of the other: Bianca proves feisty at certain moments towards the middle and end of the play and Kate becomes, arguably, completely submissive. Two progressions, inverted reflections of the other one could say. Not to mention the rampant impersonation that lends the play its amusement.

So the question then is this: what is the meaning of doubling or imitating someone's identity? In Shakespeare, it seems to always miss the mark a bit. Events and people, when we artificially try to duplicate them, never turn out quite like the original. Bianca's two suitors disguised as tutors try the same general tactic to woo her and the first is successful while the second fails miserably. Old Vincentio is impersonated by a "pedant" only to show up in the flesh, causing chaos. And so on. Shakespeare seems to be suggesting the impossibility of true doubling. And if we do double something, a person for example, can we get a better sense of the identity of the first, the original, in our very attempts, as ineffective as they may ultimately be, to recreate what wasn't man-made in origin? 

I think so. In this play, the contrasts of the qualities of the duplicates in people and situations always recall the defining characteristics of the first because they are off the mark in so many cases. And simply the act of trying to recreate something whose origins were not in our hands is a second way to test our understanding of a person or thing, for surely recreating something completely requires knowing that thing well and completely (though this is certainly not the aim of the many characters who imitate one another, whose ends are simply to put up facades to deceive temporarily).

This brings us (finally) to Rembrandt: is self portraiture anything more than simply capturing the most superficial layers of our Selves, which are our appearances? Shakespeare certainly seems to have a thing or two to say about appearance versus reality (though what exactly would maybe deserve several dozens of books of scholarly critique). The characters in The Taming use clothing and pretense (the very easiest, most superficial ways) to take on another's identity. Shakespeare used the pen to explore the many facets of the kaleidoscope that is the human being. And Rembrandt painted. 

Which brings us to mimesis, for one. Can art capture life? One glance at Rembrandt's self portrait would suggest a resounding yes to anyone who feels haunted by the harrowed glance in the seemingly living eyes in this particular painting, the life etched into every detail of his face. My personal feeling is that Rembrandt incessant refining of the art of portraiture was driven by spiritual concerns. Rather, it was driven by the spiritual question: who am I? 

And now, to move on from mildly conjectural to totally unanswerable, some questions of mine: suspending disbelief and assuming these assumptions about Rembrandt's aims were true, I wonder what Rembrandt regarded a "successful" self portrait. Was it the discovery that he made during the process of painting it, forced to understand himself so he could paint himself fully and completely? Was it the end result and its appearance? Was it how fancy his hat looked tilted on his world-weary looking head? Was he striving for something unattainable? Surely not, because if he were in a fruitless pursuit, he maybe would have given up on producing these self-portraits after the dozenth or so...

4. Richard the III explores, among other things, physiognomy, which Wikipedia defines as "the assessment of a person's character or personality from his outer appearance, especially the face." To what extent can our external appearances reveal (or even determine) or inner character?

Without knowing anything about the actual "science" of physiognomy, looking at Rembrandt's self portrait from this perspective reveals a highly thoughtful person, maybe even tormented by his thoughts, for his forehead, the physical seat of his mind, is highlighted by a warm seemingly sourceless light and is full of wrinkles, lines that tell stories of the ravages of time and of the world on his soul. The eyes are certainly not joyful, but maybe not entirely conflicted either: I sense a certain peace, a resignation in them. There is a slight asymmetry to his features that the artist never shies away from exposing. Did he ever perhaps feel a certain imbalance within that he wanted to bring to the light? Even something as simple as the blushing of the cheeks could portray someone's character and also be caused by it, on the plainly biological level. Of course, it could be that the Netherlands are cold or he is naturally prone to blushing, but one likes to think that a masterful artist rarely incorporates aspects into his works that serve a single function.

Overall, his in the portrait is not an unpleasant face. It's far from idealized or handsome, but with the light and the gentleness in his tired features, one feels a certain warmth in looking at him. If Richard III's physical appearances were repulsive like his immorality, the man in this portrait evokes a familiarity in us. When I see the inexplicably deep and complex feelings his look seems to suggest to me, I want to nod my head and say, "Yes, I know exactly what you're feeling because I feel like that, too." Who hasn't ever felt defeated by life or worn down by the passage of time at certain moments?

5. If Descartes claims that thinking confirms the existence of self, he doesn't much comment on whether that's a good or bad thing. But here, I'd have to say that the lines of age grooved into the skin of Rembrandt, the 51-year-old, and that the world-weary look in his heavy eyes offer some commentary on the matter: the burdens of thought from within, brought on perhaps by the burdens presented by life, shape us indelibly.

How completely real the wrinkles appear amazes me. The technical mastery seems incomparable, since his wrinkles seem to recede into space just as his thick pastes of paint to convey glittering gold or the highlights of facial features quite literally protrude from the canvas. But besides the technical aspect, there is a certain naturalness to the wrinkles. They're hardly the stuff of French academic painting, perfected and glossed over to the last, but one would imagine that even wrinkles would probably be presented in an artificially smooth or exaggerated way.

None of that here. They are just wrinkles, like the ones my grandma has. Unevenly spaced, a bit lopsided on his forehead, irregular and discontinuous. And yet there is also something extraordinary about them. When I look at a real person's wrinkles, I don't quite get the sense that each line contains its own story like I do when I look at this painting. Of course, the shadows of the wrinkles contrast with the illumination of the face to make them stand out as significant, which may be why. I've never been so fascinated by wrinkles.

6. Descartes says: the passions move the soul and find expression not only within but without. He even offers us cute and creepy little sketches to prove his point. (Maybe his ideas would have been better explained with examples of Rembrandt's portraits?)

So what emotion can we capture here? What is the passion? It's hardly singular. I see serenity beneath the pain, a certain resignation, even, lingering behind his eyes that I love looking at so much. But there's also the sense of not mere emotional passion contained within the vacuum of this constructed world captured on a canvas—we have the sense that part of what we see on his face is his reaction to us, the looker. That his upper body faces away from us while his head is turned towards us (and is off center) suggest that we, onlookers, have interrupted him or called out to him and his reaction is one far from curiosity (at least, I think) but not quite impatience. It's almost the facial embodiment of what I sometimes feel when I'm suffering but lacking both the will or the capacity to convey it in words.

His expression, to me, is therefore not only the outward manifestation of inward passions spurred by life experiences, but also a reaction to something beyond the very canvas itself. The subject of the painting is responsive to his internal world and the world extending beyond the frame, almost.

7. The coloring. Why these colors? I'd venture to guess that they're the most natural. Nothing can be more common in our daily lives than the color of skin and the ultimate lack of color, the color of darkness, black. All else seems to lie on the spectrum connecting these two. Besides being natural, these shades of earthly (human-ly?) pigment are the furthest from distracting. If Rembrandt's aim is to concentrate all of the onlooker's focus onto the illuminated areas, he doesn't just do so with lighting and expertly-conveyed emotion, but through the complete lack of distracting color. Put in another, by the non-color that is black, as it envelops the only colored portion of the canvas.

But one could also possibly suggest that the only real color here is gold, of illumination, perhaps of something valuable, like the life within or even maybe the wisdom behind those old, old eyes that seem to have seen so much. Hints of rose dotting his cheeks, forehead, and nose also evoke life, a living and breathing thing, nowhere close to the end of his days but having seen many still.

8. To expand on the spiritual aspects of this painting, though I may be reading entirely too much into it (as I often do with spirituality in art and literature), I want to comment on the "self" here, in honor of the religious poetry we're reading this week (AV Locke & J Donne). If poetry can be a way of examining the self, at least for certain mystical poets to whom John Donne seems to come close, to gain better understanding in a deeply spiritual sense, then why not painting? If Shakespearean self-awareness is the height of noble human capabilities, then is there a way this can be conveyed through visual art? If so, Rembrandt must surely be an exemplar.

I've always felt that Shakespeare's most moving soliloquys and plays aren't just brilliant in their sheer pathos, but also in their capacity to provoke us to self-awareness through showing us what it means to be human. Human-ness is dissected and exposed in all of its tragedy and comedy and misery and beauty.

In the same way, after looking for such a while at this painting, I almost get the sense that Rembrandt meant for us to look at ourselves through looking at this subject—himself, presumably—whose utter humanity as depicted in his imperfections and deeply moving expression lead us to identify with this figure but also to observe it, since we're onlookers, after all.

Hoping this isn't an overreach of interpretation, if this is indeed a painting meant to provoke identification and ultimately heightened self-awareness in us, where is God? No where to be directly seen, though the Anne Vaughn Lockes among us (as in, the rather God-oriented) may perhaps indicate that the mysterious illumination pouring down on just his head—his mind—is divine in origin. I wouldn't argue with that.

9. The dimensions of the painting are apparently 53cm x 44cm. I did some *really* rough approximating (with Google conversion, a ruler, and my arms against my desk) and that's just about enough for the head to be roughly the size of a human head, which seems to confirm the notion that the painting may be intentionally painted to provoke us to both interact with it as if alive and to identify with it. The best word for the cumulative effect of the turned gaze, the piercing eyes, the darkened background, the lit face, and the dimensions may be intimacy. Normally, we look at art with a barrier of criticism, analyses, thought, comparisons, judgments, and evaluations that enhance our intellectual discourse with the work but may impede our ability to directly interact with the world that it creates. I think this painting is meant to urge us towards the latter. I chose this painting precisely for that sensation it gave me of being invited not to be a spectator with an invisible wall dividing me from the portrait, but a part of the world it creates, where the figure portrayed acts more than even an interlocutor might in a Renaissance painting, but more as something to eventually lose oneself in and with through identification, through diving into those mysterious and complex emotions etched in his face.

Jasmine Bala

“Self-Portrait with Two Circles”

Close Reading I:

Rembrandt’s self-portrait with two circles paints a humble image of the artist himself at work. Rembrandt is seen as holding his paintbrush in a sitting position. He appears to be in a dark, gloomy workplace and he is holding a paintbrush in his hands. His face appears stern and the dark marks on his face give the impression of dirt on his otherwise clean skin. He is wearing a white cap with a white handkerchief around his neck. The two white objects in the portrait help balance the white tones against his black robe. The painting appears to be oil-on-canvas with contrasts of light and dark colors. The colors give the painting a tone of sepia, since the artist makes use of almost-neutral colors to highlight the subject.

The background poses two circles that draw the viewer’s attention to detail. The curvature of the right circle is balanced by the curling of the subject’s hair in the portrait. The circles appear sharp and bear a finished touch. The simplicity of the circles stands in sharp contrast to the generally unfinished touch of the remaining portrait. Rembrandt’s robe appears to be blending into the background and the lines appear smudged. One can almost tell the lines that have been smudged with the finger as opposed to those painted with the brush.

The subject covers only the upper three-fourth of the portrait. The bottom portion is dark and placed out of focus. The portrait as a whole places Rembrandt’s face into the spotlight.

Close Reading II:

For the second reading, I will be focusing on Rembrandt’s eyes and face. Rembrandt’s face, as I mentioned earlier, is placed in the spotlight. His face appears dark and gloomy with the light shining mostly on the right half of his face. The left half seems to be in the dark and is marred with black paint. A semicircle seems to outline Rembrandt’s left eye and the black paint is smudged on to the right side of his mouth. His chin appears almost dark. A shiny white tip on his nose draws attention to the finer details of Rembrandt’s face.

Rembrandt’s facial expression appears candid. His eyes are focused on an object to his front right. His lips appear pursed. They give the viewer the impression that he has come to a conclusion about something, and possibly formed an opinion. The line of Rembrandt’s forehead and a slight frown between his eyebrows make Rembrandt seem like he has just looked upon something questionable. Rembrandt appears to be in a curious, yet decisive mood.

Close Reading III:

For the third reading, I examined Rembrandt’s use of style and strokes to finish, and in the process leave unfinished, the greater fraction of the painting that does not focus on his face. Once you down from Rembrandt’s face, you notice that he is holding a palette and paintbrushes in his left hand. His arm is raised and his art equipment, though not very prominent, is present to give the viewer a sense that Rembrandt is actually standing in his workplace.

Though his left arm is raised to hold his palette, his right arm is also raise to be on an equal level with the left. This synchronization gives Rembrandt a majestic appearance and also allows us to notice that he is wearing a robe. The drapes of his robe are clearly visible around his chest region and the robe bears a yellowish fur lining that is quite prominent. The robe blends into the lower half of the painting. Rembrandt uses rapid strokes to paint his robe, giving it an unfinished touch.

The light is focused on his shoulders and the upper half of the robe catches our attention. Though most of the robe is painted black, we can see that the paintbrushes have been painted using simple yet fine yellow strokes that stand out against the black background of the robe. The palette is a light brown hue and barely visible against the black robe. Overall, Rembrandt’s garments bear an incomplete and unfinished look, adding to the raw nature of a painter’s workplace.

CLOSE READING IV:

Once I began looking beyond the intricate features of Rembrandt’s eyes and face, my focus shifted to the two circles behind Rembrandt in the portrait. The two semicircles appear to be drawn on the surface of the wall. The wall seems to be made of concrete or canvas.

The manner in which the circles are drawn showcases Rembrandt’s skill as an artist. The circles appear to be sketched by a single stoke of the hand. Their perfect curvature could only be attained by an artist who was experienced in his work.

Both circles are incomplete and face away from each other. I saw the circles as representing the two semi-spheres of night and day, equal and opposite from one another. The shape of the circles could symbolize the half-figures of the sun and the moon as their presence alternates through the day. Rembrandt’s positioning of himself in the portrait is carried out in such a way that he blocks the line of the circle on the left, and he sits slightly turned to the circle on the right. This could signify that through his portrait, he wishes to capture one moment of the day, when it is either light or dark.

If the space between the circles is closely observed, one will notice that the circle to the left is lighter and has more shades of white that the circle to the right. Rembrandt possibly used this to signify either the ‘darkness’ of his workplace, or the approaching end of his life. The space between the circles is neutral, indicating that somewhere between the sun and the moon, the bright and the dark, the youth and the old, there is a gap in nature. It is in this gap that Rembrandt positions himself as an artist. Since the picture portrays Rembrandt in his workplace, Rembrandt could be attempting to convey to the onlooker that his art fills the gap in nature. The circles offer a very refreshing viewpoint to Rembrandt’s portrayal of himself.

CLOSE READING V:

While trying to focus on the intricate details of Rembrandt’s painting, I couldn’t help but notice the juxtaposition offered by Rembrandt’s ears and hands. Quite interestingly, Rembrandt puts in contrast the two parts of his body that he uses to sense the world around him. While the hands are used primarily to feel and carry out a task, the ears are used to listen to the world, and to translate that auditory perception into a command for the body to carry out a task. In his portrait, Rembrandt leaves his right ear exposed, while his left ear is covered by the waves of his hair. His hands, that fall into the bottom, unfinished half of the painting, are covered by shades of black and cannot be seen.

By tilting his head slightly and leaving one ear exposed, Rembrandt conveys to the viewer that he is willing to listen to the world around him. His ear would capture the voices around him and translate those voices into artwork that would be carried out by his hands. His hands remain unseen. It is almost as if Rembrandt wants his viewer to see his exposed ear and speak to him, but not see his hands that carry out the menial task of making art.

Rembrandt portrays himself as the engaged artist, someone who is willing to listen, perform and showcase his ultimate artwork, but unwilling to have his viewer look upon the physical labor involved in the process of creating the artwork.

CLODE READING VI:

After sketching out the self-portrait using a pencil, I was able to notice the fine lines that mark Rembrandt’s face and draw attention to his facial muscles. What I had first observed as curiosity in Rembrandt’s expression, now takes the form of worry, or sustained concentration. Rembrandt’s forehead has a line of worry and his eyebrows appear flexed.

While I used my pencil to shade the darker portions of Rembrandt’s face, I noticed that his nose was the boldest feature of his face and was drawn with darker lines, highlighting his nostrils, as if the artist is breathing out. The lines on the cheek were darker than those on the forehead and I made several attempts in attempting to show the folded skin of the right cheek. While I shaded Rembrandt’s face, I noticed that his facial muscles were in a state of contraction, marked by dark crevices that infringed on the fine lines of his face. The left half of his face is marked by deeper, darker lines, making me imagine that the light was falling from the top left corner of the portrait.

CLODE READING VII:

As I mentioned in my last journal entry, my experience sketching out the portrait in pencil and blending shades of black and white made me understand the manner in which light is reflected by Rembrandt in his portrait.

As I sketched, I kept in mind the areas in paint that appeared lighter than the rest. I found that the light was seen to be shining from the upper left corner of the portrait. I used that conception of light to make my sketch, leaving traces of white where I imagined the light would shine. If one looks closely, one will notice that the upper right corner has dark lines that signify darkness. The lower right corner is also dark and Rembrandt’s robe on his right shoulder has a yellowish-tinged color, signifying the light falling. Rembrandt’s hair encircling his right ear lobe appears to be whiter than the hair on the other side of his head. I had first imagined the difference in hair color to be coming from a portrayal of dirt on Rembrandt’s face, but my experience showed me that color in the portrait is viewed from the manner in which light falls on the subject.

As a result of Rembrandt’s left side being portrayed as darker than the right, his left eye is also seen as darker and covered in a shadowy black. The manner in which the Rembrandt’s two eyes are sketched differently from one another gives us the impression that he is squinting. His left eye appears smaller than the right and his left cheek is darker in shade.

CLODE READING VIII:

For this reading, I will focus on the lines of curvature I noticed while attempting to replicate Rembrandt’s portrait. Most of Rembrandt’s lines are curved and bold in form. He isn’t afraid to have curved lines dominate most of his painting. Though most of the lines are smudged with the paint in the background, giving a natural, gloomy effect to the painting, I could tell that Rembrandt had made an effort to give shape to most of his lines. Not a single line in the portrait required me to hold my pencil straight and attempt to draw a perfectly straight line.

While curved lines made it easier for me to sketch the portrait, I believe Rembrandt used these curvatures to bring about aesthetic pleasure in his painting. Since the two circles in the background serve as the gentle focus of the portrait, all other circles in the painting are painted in accordance to the two semicircles. Rembrandt’s hair is comprised of gentle curls. The tip of his nose has a slight curvature. Rembrandt’s shoulders are broad and his elbows are bent, with his robe covering the upper half of his body. It is interesting that even with a heavy robe hanging from his body; Rembrandt’s chest appears to have gently curved lines, showcasing the drapes of the cloth on his body. The only straight lines visible to the eye are the line of the paintbrushes, though I had to hold my pencil slanted while drawing them in order to make them stand out from the other curved surfaces.

I would imagine that the primary function of the curved lines is to draw attention to the semicircles in the background and reflect their presence in Rembrandt’s body.

CLOSE READING IX:

On Tuesday, 25th March at 11:53 am, I visited the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, where I had the chance to look upon the portrait of my study. I had lined up in the special exhibits section of the museum where they were showcasing Rembrandt’s portraits from Kenwood.

Though I could allowed only a brief period of time to look upon the portrait, viewing it in reality gave me a much better sense of what the subject in the portrait looked like. The colors, as opposed to what I had seen on my computer screen, appeared brighter and sharper. I also noticed a mixed, grainy composition of the color employed in the painting that lent it a smoky effect.

What I found most interesting was that on my first look at the painting, I found myself looking at Rembrandt’s eyes in his portrait. Though the eyes seem to lack lustre in the online version of the painting, in reality they are perfectly rounded circles that are filled with black paint. Rembrandt’s eyeballs are prominent and leave the viewer in awe of Rembrandt himself. Moreover, the lines in the painting were much more pronounced than I had imagined it to be. I could tell that Rembrandt had used a brush of thin to medium thickness to draw the lines, since most of the lines appeared uniform.

Like most other oil-on-panel paintings, Rembrandt’s portrait looked much more realistic in reality. My visit to the museum gave me a true sense of what the viewer’s experience was meant to be.

Susan Chakmakian

Rembrandt Self-Portrait Journal

Self-Portrait Drawing at a Window

Week 1 (January 23, 2013)

In this drawing, Rembrandt pictures himself sitting beside a window and drawing. This picture, then, could very well be an image of the same artistic process he went through to produce it. Because it is a drawing, the only colors possible are those of the paper and the various shades produced by Rembrandt’s drawing implement, presumably some sort of pencil. Rembrandt creates different shades by drawing both parallel and intersecting lines: the closer the lines are to each other, the darker the shade. Although this is a self-portrait, the view out the window in the left of the painting is a much lighter color and therefore more easily captures the attention of the viewer than the right side of the portrait, where Rembrandt has placed himself, emphasizing the view which provides the represented Rembrandt with light by which to draw and sights to inspire him. The next-brightest parts of the drawing are Rembrandt’s drawing paper and his right hand, poised on the paper and holding some sort of artistic tool, ready to work. Finally, his face draws the viewer’s attention as the most clearly visible part of his body, though still darkened somewhat by the hat he is wearing indoors for some reason. His eyes are the brightest parts within that face, here looking up and away from his work momentarily. The distribution of shading in this portrait, then, seems to emphasize Rembrandt’s artistic process, drawing attention to his subject matter and light source, the medium on which he is working, the hand with which he draws, and the eyes he uses to see what he creates, while his general physical presence is mostly hidden in shadow.

Week 2 (January 27, 2013)

As stated in the previous entry, Rembrandt’s eyes are the most striking parts of his face because they have the brightest shading and therefore draw the viewer’s attention the most quickly. They are also drawn so that they do not look directly ahead at the imagined viewer or down at the drawing Rembrandt is working on, but instead forward with a slight slant to Rembrandt’s left. However, because this is a self-portrait, Rembrandt’s gaze here could still very well be related to the production of his work. Since a self-portrait requires the artist to have an image of his face before him, Rembrandt’s angled gaze could be directed at a mirror or even a previously drawn image of himself to use as a reference in the creation of this version. In a portrait which allows Rembrandt to consider himself and the viewer to consider Rembrandt, the eyes of the portrait could reveal here that Rembrandt is also depicting the act of viewing oneself on another (contextual) level within this portrait.

Week 3 (February 3, 2013)

In this drawing, two different kinds of lines are evident: those used by Rembrandt in his artistic technique, especially for shading, and those that mark out the shapes of each element within the picture, from the lines of the window to the curves of Rembrandt’s hat. Generally, the elements on the left-hand side of the drawing are sharply defined by clearly visible outlines containing a fair amount of empty space, as with Rembrandt’s papers, the window, and the view outside of it. In the darker part of the portrait where Rembrandt has stationed himself, however, the outlines work somewhat differently. In examining them up close, the viewer realizes that they are not as clearly defined as those on the left, or at least are not explicitly marked out with external lines drawn out on the paper. Instead, these “outlines” are merely suggested by the shapes formed by the internal lines used for shading. Where the objects that are exterior to Rembrandt (the paper, the window, even his clothes) are clearly delineated with crisp outlines, the image of Rembrandt himself is constructed so that its interior lines are much more critical to its formation than any exterior lines. This suggests a sort of extended metaphor for the self-portrait: objects are distinct elements, clearly marked out and defined by their external features, whereas Rembrandt, the self, is defined by his interior. Rembrandt, then, is defined by his “inner” self, meaning that his self is somewhat more permeable than the other depicted objects and therefore has the potential to be affected by external sources (including those objects) but also has the freedom to redefine its own boundaries however much it chooses.

Week 4 (February 10, 2013)

Although this is a self-portrait, only the right half of the portrait presents an image of Rembrandt. The left half instead represents the view outside Rembrandt’s window, which initially draws the viewer’s attention because it is the brightest part of the portrait. Framed by the window to create a portrait within a portrait, the distant trees, houses, and hills of this view are sketched with the barest outlines so that much of the view is negative space. The presence of such a view in a self-portrait serves to remind the reader that, while it is necessary to put some distance between society and the self when trying to study the self in isolation, that society will still exert some external influence on the self, however faint it might be. However, the view also functions as a sort of visual foil for Rembrandt: where the view is bright and sparse, Rembrandt’s image of himself is dark and extremely detailed. While the former draws the viewer’s attention initially, the image of the self is ultimately more interesting for the viewer to observe because it has more detail to consider. The view, then, is used by Rembrandt to highlight the way he chose to depict himself, making the viewer think more intently about his technique in the “self” part of the self-portrait by providing an example of the complete opposite technique for comparison.

Week 6 (March 3, 2013)

Rembrandt often depicts himself in his self-portraits wearing elaborate costumes, posing as historical figures or fictional characters, but that is not the case in this self-portrait. Instead, he wears what appears to be a simple dark jacket over a matching vest and a white shirt, which pokes out at the collar and adds small ruffs at the end of his sleeves. The most distinctive part of the ensemble is definitely his brimmed hat, which hides most of his hair and perhaps, in a possible moment of personal vanity, a receding hairline. It seems a bit strange that he has chosen to wear a hat indoors, but Rembrandt includes headwear in many of his self-portraits so it may be a habitual artistic choice. His choice of ensemble, then, is only distinctive in how indistinctive it is: while the sleeve of his drawing arm is clearly visible by the light from the window, the rest of his clothing almost blends into the dark background on the right side of the portrait. In this way, Rembrandt ensures that the focus of the portrait is not on the trappings of a costume but rather on himself in the process of creating art.

Week 7 (March 10, 2013)

In his study of human emotions in The Passions of the Soul, Descartes includes diagrams of facial expressions outwardly reflecting each of his six primary emotions, “namely Wonder, Love, Hatred, Desire, Joy, and Sadness” (Passions 56), usually alongside another derivative emotion for contrast. Descartes himself infers, however, that these emotions are usually combined with others and are rarely found in their purest state, as they are depicted in The Passions, in real life and that therefore it would be difficult to use these diagrams to detect these emotions in reality. Using the diagrams to approach a study of Rembrandt’s facial expression in this particular self-portrait is further complicated by how subtly his face is drawn in comparison with those diagrams. Where the sketches in Descartes’ text feature eyes at dramatic angles, stretched mouths, and faces contorted in wrinkles resulting in fairly unnatural expressions, the face in Rembrandt’s portrait is barely manipulated at all, with only the slightest quirks of the eyebrows and corners of the mouth and some wrinkles around the eyes, which express, if anything, a kind of warmth. Rembrandt’s face, then, could not be said to represent any of the six primary emotions: on the contrary, its expression, while definitely more natural, could perhaps best be described as neutral. Even this designation is not concrete, however, as one’s interpretation of the expression changes the longer one examines it, starting off neutral and, in my case, growing warmer and almost bemused while still being contemplative. This apparent neutrality is key because it allows the viewer to extrapolate their own idea of his expression instead of having one specific idea imposed upon them. Essentially, Rembrandt uses this neutrality of facial expression to allow the viewer to make up their own mind about how they interpret the outward reflection of his inner self in this self-portrait, creating a version of himself which is determined by others.

Week 8 (March 17, 2013)

As has been noted above, this portrait has a very limited color scheme because of its medium. It is not, as previously and mistakenly discussed, a drawing done in pencil which can therefore only use shading to make distinctions between colors, but a print from an etching. In this scenario, Rembrandt could potentially use more than one color of ink in the printing process but that would be so much more complicated than just using a single color of ink, as he does here. There may, however, be stylistic reasons behind his choice of one color as well as practical ones. Using only one color creates a stark contrast with Rembrandt’s painted self-portraits, which use myriad combinations of pigments to make an almost infinite number of colors. Such a variety of colors would make the portraits more realistic but also more fanciful, especially with the colorful costumes and props Rembrandt might choose to represent in the portrait. Here, the choice of a single color is not necessarily more realistic but does affect the tone of the portrait, making it seem simple and serious but also giving it some gravity.

Week 9 (March 24, 2013)

The medium chosen by Rembrandt for this self-portrait, the etching which produces a print, lends itself, through the process by which it is made, to certain metaphors that help to consider the many ways in which the self can be represented or shared with others. If the plate which is etched is copied from a drawing, then there will inevitably be differences between the drawing and the etching, even if the artist tries to recreate the drawing exactly. Similarly, there are many possible variations within one person’s self, which is never completely rigid and can never be exactly duplicated by anyone else. The idea of carving the image into the plate also suggests the effort that goes into building and transmitting a specific image of the self. To print the image from the plate, ink must be applied, and the resulting print is the inverse of what is seen on the plate. The ink is an external coloring which is necessary to transmit the image of the self to others, like the body is necessary to express what is experienced by the soul, while the reversal of the image from the plate to the print suggests that the perceived self is like a mirror image of the interior self, somehow exactly the same and reversed at once. Finally, the plate can be used multiple times to create several prints of the same image, but the repeated printing process makes the plate deteriorate and thereby compromises the clarity of the print produced, so that each image made from the same plate is slightly different from the one made before and the one made after. If he so chose, the artist could even deliberately edit the plate to add new elements and change old ones, creating new states. The self is similarly in flux, changing on its own or with deliberate effort from the person, and with no two people seeing it exactly the same way, especially since mediation between the internal self and its external representation is an imperfect process which can never fully and perfectly capture what it means to represent to others because its subject changes from moment to moment.

Week 10 (March 31, 2013)

Many of Rembrandt’s self-portraits represent their subject, Rembrandt, in great detail, but surround him with a vaguely nebulous or even blank background not reminiscent of an actual space. In this portrait, however, Rembrandt has placed himself somewhere definitive, even if the area directly behind him is shrouded in darkness, by including the detailed image of a window: the title of the portrait, which Rembrandt may or may not have chosen himself, directly references this space. The sense of simple realism established by Rembrandt’s background extends, then, to the rest of the portrait, including the activity in which its subject is engaged, drawing. There is no grandeur in this image of a man with paper and pencil creating art. By the time this print was done in 1648, Rembrandt was incredibly successful, having completed The Night’s Watch, one of his most celebrated paintings, only a few years earlier. The fact that he chooses, in his depiction of himself, not to represent the trappings of his success but the quotidian activity behind that success, suggests a focus balanced between the individual man and the idea of the artist in general. Here, engaged in his work just like any other artist, Rembrandt can simultaneously present an image that is specifically of himself and act as a stand-in for all artists, giving equal importance to the self he represents and the craft he uses to represent it.

Daniel Gregg

Self-Portrait Leaning on a Stone Sill, 1639, etching. The original was on exhibition in the National Gallery in Prague from 02/10/2012 to 05/27/2012. I believe it's still held in the archives there.

Close Reading Notes:

As far as materials go, the piece was made using acid etching a metal plate, and then using the plate as a stamp on a sheet of paper.  The composition is very basic, with only the artist, the stone he's leaning on, and the edge of what seems to be his shadow behind him.  In the upper left corner, Rembrandt signed his name and labeled the year on the piece.  The piece uses no paint; the only colors present are that of the paper and the ink.  All of the forms in the painting are comprised of many tiny lines, giving contours to shapes and shading them with crosshatching (Rembrandt's face is the most interesting example, I think).  In this instance, Rembrandt has drawn himself being fairly well lit (it's hard to compare this with his paintings, as they are different media), and in a pose possessing a measure of poise, and importance.  His body is in in profile, but he has turned his head to look straight at the viewer.  He wears good clothing, but still presents himself as a painter, though not directly, as he doesn't have his tools nor is in his studio.  Perhaps he has begun to gather some acclaim and influence in his community of artists and patrons, and thus presents himself so.

1/28/13

        Though I started this a little later than everyone else, I think it’s still important to look at the portrait with Baxandall’s thoughts in mind, especially considering the fact that I’m looking at a self portrait.  The piece is Rembrandt’s Self-Portrait Leaning on a Stone Sill, etched and printed in 1639.  Though I haven’t taken a history course in two years, I do remember that Rembrandt was a pretty famous artist in the 17th century, and of Dutch origin.  I also know that the Netherlands were an economic and cultural powerhouse at the time.  So I think Rembrandt was active during a time of commerce, and during a time when more and more patrons of the arts were materializing.  This seems fairly self-evident in the portrait, with Rembrandt dressed well, hands clasped and face somewhere between solemn and pensive.  It’s probably a good idea to brush up on some of my history.

1/31/13

        I did a little bit of learning to get an even better context.  Rembrandt was born during the middle of the Eighty Years’ War, the Dutch war for independence from Spain.  The war finally ended in 1648, by which time Rembrandt was already famous.  Over the course of the war, an influx of skilled Protestant laborers, fleeing Catholic Spain, cheap energy sources powering new industries, such as peat and windmills, and the Dutch military and trade fleets transformed them into the powerhouse that I mentioned earlier.  While I can’t say that I can see evidence of the Netherlands’ military strength in the portrait, the economic influence is clear.

2/02/13

        This week we’re supposed to give our attention to the subject’s face and eyes.  In my portrait, Rembrandt has retained his wildly curly hair, but in this instance, also has a large mustache and goatee-styled beard of similar quality.  I’m not sure of the specifics regarding his time and place, but generally speaking, facial hair often marked the patriarch.  It was characteristic of the head of the household.  He’s also wearing a cap at a rakish angle, though it appears to be less indicative of youth and more of stature, especially in combination with the facial hair.  His wrinkled brown suggests the same.  His eyes seem slightly out of focus, which is unfortunate, because I don’t think that was his intention and because they’re distracting, at least to me.  He does not squint or open them wide; they appear to be partially lidded, in a fashion once more reflecting the subject’s awareness of his stature.  Overall, it gives me a sense that he’s something between solemn and pensive, as I had said before.  It might be worth some time to do some research into Rembrandt’s personal life.

2/10/13

        As of the etching’s creation, Rembrandt had been somewhat recently married (in 1634), and had just moved into an expensive house, which eventually became a source of his financial troubles.  At the time, though, he had begun to garner some wealthy patrons, who consistently purchased his works.  He had had three children by 1639, and all them having died within a month of age.  I imagine that the self portrait is on some kind of terrace or veranda at his new, expensive house, which would confirm my earlier suppositions about the etching and about Rembrandt himself.  As for the shadow in the corner, perhaps it belongs to his wife, or a shade of one of his children.  It looks almost like a skeleton, and if it is, is Rembrandt moving past it or is it there, still worrying him?  I’m not sure yet.

02/18/13

        Much of the etching is simply negative space, but the subject itself is fairly well detailed, as is most of the wall/sill he’s leaning on.  There are some areas, however, where the detailing slowly becomes less dense, such as the work on the wall itself, as well as the subject’s clothing, both in the lower right corner.  This also happens to be where the shadow/shade/skeleton is.  It makes me wonder whether or not it was an intentional fading out, or if Rembrandt is simply less interested in extraneous detail.  I imagine it’s intentional, though.  He probably wants to keep the focus of the viewers purely on the subject itself, and mostly on the face.

02/23/13

        This is interesting, and I hadn’t thought about it before.  Rembrandt seems to be wearing a rosary in the etching, though it has been created in such a manner that it doesn’t draw a lot of attention to itself.  I think that the rosary is a Roman Catholic device, which is a little confusing because I’m fairly certain that the Netherlands are pretty protestant at this point in time.  I’ll have to look into it for the next entry.  The fact that he’s wearing it in the etching also brings up the question of religion and its role in the average Dutch person’s/artist’s life.  The subject is wearing, at least it seems to me, fairly gaudy/self-important clothing, but I was under the impression that most forms of protestantism denounced the visual vanities of the Catholic Church, and tried to be a little more down to earth.  I definitely need to look into what kind of religion he prescribed to.

03/09/13

        I have found out that Rembrandt’s father was a member of the Dutch Reformed Church, which was a protestant evolution of the Roman Catholic church, and his mother was Roman Catholic.  It seems that what religion Rembrandt followed is up in the air, if he followed one at all.  I think I’ll only be able to vaguely speculate about why he decided to include a rosary in this portrait.  It doesn’t look like it shows up in any of his other portraits.  My vague speculations include: it’s a gift from his mother, it’s a form of appeasement towards a particular target audience, and perhaps he actually was Roman Catholic.  It’s also possible that the rosary doesn’t belong to the Catholic Church alone; it could also belong to the Dutch Reformed Church or another reformed church.

        In terms of relating the etching to what we’re currently covering in class, Rembrandt, particularly in this piece, does like to break things down to their basics.  Like Descartes, he built things up starting with the self, and all other extraneous details come into focus around him, again, particularly the face.

03/15/13

        I can’t really think of any manner in which I can directly connect Descartes’ Passions and Leaning on a Stone Sill.  Descartes’ medical interpretations were occasionally insightful, considering the time period, but most of the time, they made me laugh.  Also, I think it’s hard to connect the exercise of controlling the passions in order to liberate the self and the act of creating a piece of art.  One is about controlling the passions, another about capturing them in some manner, which is what Rembrandt is especially known for.

Looking at more details in the etching, the manner in which Rembrandt creates light and dark in many of his pieces, including this etching, is particularly interesting, and indicative of the Baroque era, which was the period during which he lived.  The source of light that allows for the contrast in the etching seemingly comes from somewhere on the right of the viewer, at least when noticing how the light plays across the subject’s face.  When looking at his clothing, on the other hand, it seems as if the light source is very narrow and comes from closer to the front.  The shading is primarily done through hatching and crosshatching, with the hatching lines making up the contours in the face and hair, and the crosshatching adding the actual shading to the etching.  The hatching in the wall varies between horizontal and diagonal, seemingly without direct purpose.  Perhaps he wanted to separate the stones making up the sill.  The hatch lines give the most evidence towards where he placed his attentions.  They become less dense where there is less detail, and more careless/hasty.

04/07/13

        The reading we had to do on Rembrandt has shed new light on the artist and his circumstance at the time the etching was created.  He’s probably begun taking on students by this point, and has begun earning a fairly serious amount of money.  The account Houbraken gives indicates that he’s quite fond of money, collecting it as well as spending it, though he only purchased things he felt were important.  This affirms my earlier observations and suppositions about the etching.  The reading also indicates that most of his contemporaries thought his stylistic choices were rather unorthodox, but people continued to buy up his pieces anyway.  It’s difficult to see what might be unorthodox about this etching, but perhaps that’s because the greatest complaint people had was about his nudes, while his self-portraits are a little bit more stately, and the bodies are much less emphasized than the faces.  Houbraken’s biography also says that Rembrandt became more interested in starting pieces than finishing them as he grew older, but, while this etching does seem mostly empty, it’s too early for Houbraken’s observation to hold, I think.  As an etching, there’s going to be a lot of negative space, and while there are parts of the etching that do seem a little more hurried, this one seems much more detailed than some of his other prints.

Gabi Guadalupe

Observation of Rembrant’s Self-Portrait, Leaning Forward (1628)

Self-Portrait Leaning Forward (1628)

The quality of the drawing is so unlike his paintings--it is an earlier version of modern line drawings. I am particularly drawn to the shading, as sketched in lines and cross-hatchings rather than rubbed in as a solid shadow. I am interested in the simpler line drawing because it is limited and his choice of which parts to depict are so intentional. 

I also really focused on the eyes, which are the darkest part of the sketch, completely dark and filled in. It adds an intensity that conflicts with the obvious youth of the subject (himself). The posture is hunched and reserved and the subject appears to be watching or looking at something, or possibly he is in thought. 

Week 2:

I continue to be very interested in his mode of shading—the cross-hatching is incredibly aesthetically pleasing. The attention is drawn to the upper right corner (the left side of his face and left shoulder), where we see specifically that he is leaning forward and is hunched, as well as his expression, which is a somewhat neutral close-lipped gaze. His eyebrows are drawn close together, somewhat downward, adding a level of heaviness to his expression.

More on the eyes: we can only assume which direction his eyes are in (to his left), but not any more detail, as they are only black and the pupils are not drawn in with detail. The black of the eyes seem to signify a darkness to this character (that is, Rembrant as he depicts himself here). There is a definite depth to him, and I will consider to pursue this aspect of the drawing as time goes on, for his gaze and possible contemplation are very interesting to me.

His posture: “leaning-forward:” he is hunched, his shoulders and body facing slightly to his right, while he faces left. This suggests a conflict, between (possibly) body and mind, since his eyes are so heavy and such strong aspects of the drawing. It also suggests he is looking behind himself, such as at the past, his own actions, history, or thoughts. His arm is resting before him, on some sort of raised table or object placing it in front of his chest, and we see a piece of his hand.

Background: the shading of the background seems less purposeful as that on his face and neck, but it does function to draw my attention to the right side of the drawing. The lack of shadow on the right side functions to show each piece of hair and how it curls outward. It also draws attention to the roundedness of his shoulder as it blocks his body off from whatever lies to his left.

Week 3:

I am more interested as I look at it this week about how my mind creates an image from the lines I see—I can deduce that the young man has a smooth cheek, a round nose, and a small mouth with lips on the fuller side. His eyes are small and dark. His clothes are oversized and fall forward across his chest as he hunches over.

I can also picture the lines as a person—my mind imagines him in color, his features more realistic and 3D. Rembrandt’s line choice yields an image with a physical presence, due to the foreshortening of his shoulder and the use of shadow.

The dark lines of his hair, his neck, lower cheek, and shoulder blend together, creating a darkness on the left side of the paper as well as a suggestion of a dark side, its parts indistinguishable, as well as a light side (which I had previously remarked on in a different context, on the left side of his face and his left shoulder).

The “V” of his over shirt is also more significant to me on this viewing—it points down to his arm across his chest and the undershirt frames his face and neck, though it is only clearly visible on his left side. The darker lines directly under the point of the V suggests a direction, a continuation which might be on the mind of the young man.

Week 4: Sketch

Week 5: Sketch Reflections

I hadn’t noticed how random the lines are—they were quickly sketched, thrown about to give shading effects. He put a great emphasis on the hair, purposefully making this detail seem sloppy and haphazard. I had trouble with the eyes; my character seems to be looking at me, rather than off to his left. I was still drawn to how his posture works—hunched forward leaning on one arm. It is relaxed; whatever he thinks about does not worry him too much. Contemplative within his shoulders, barring himself off from external influences and stimuli, unless he is watching/seeing something over his left shoulder.

What I mostly noticed is how much he left out—so many features are undefined or shaded over. He has no ears. He has a line of a mouth, and not defined lips. I wonder what he is trying to say about himself in this portrait through the omission of details. The facial features he did draw are carefully set down, not corresponding with the shading which covers the neck, the shoulders and chest in long, back-and-forth strokes. The arm is also carefully set down, it has its own pattern of shading to set it apart. I found doing my own version of the sketch to be a good exercise in seeing what Rembrandt was focusing on as he drew himself, leaning forward.

Week 6:

The eyes are the windows to the soul—what makes up the soul and self of Rembrandt here? His eyes are deep, intense, maybe cynical. His brow is furrowed, maybe sad to see what he’s seeing, maybe his jaw is tight because he’s hiding his reaction. The way his face is angled, slightly downward, his eyes seem to be set on their own plane, above and in a different space from the rest of his facial features. The tilt of his head is not at all obvious or apparent until I realized his eyes are uneven; he is leaning slightly to his right, slightly towards the darker end of the page.

The black eyes contract the softness of his face, shown in the cheeks, lips, and nose. They’re heavy and dramatic, where the face is mostly outline and shading, undefined, the eyes are not detailed but filled in completely. They are dark and conflicted, reflective of some inner turmoil of his soul, from which he is shielding himself from with his body (his shoulder and arm, specifically). Still his face completely looks upon whatever scene he is seeing, whatever might be causing his inner conflict.

Week 7:

“To be or not to be, that is the question

Whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slights an arrows of outrageous fortune…”

His posture seems very much to be suggesting a preparing for action and a thoughtfulness (leaning forward—preparing to move forward, but actually only beginning to shift the body in that direction). It reminds me very much of Hamlet’s soliloquy. Might he be considering acting, considering making a decision? His shoulder shields off the rest of his body from whatever he is looking at.

If he is considering action, might the face that the posture is a part of a sketch itself make him forever inactive? Sketching this posture may leave it open for suggestions about his mind, but not his body, because it is still on the page. In comparison to Hamlet, he does not have any dialogue or ending—the ways of thinking about time are morphed, and the self-portrait is either always in the present or always in the past.

Week 8:

What is this sketch saying about halves? Light and darkness, light and heavy. After spending time considering his eyes, considering his thoughts, I wonder about his inner self past the thoughts passing through his mind at the moment (which I had considered as potentially action/inaction/conflict).

I’ve found it very interesting how much I’ve felt I’ve learned about Rembrandt from this sketch, and how the composition and set of simple lines can give so much meaning and significance. This has been a really interesting exercise in reading an image, and I wonder if it would be read differently by his contemporaries.

Week 9:

After weeks with this sketch, it isn’t a set of lines on a piece of paper any longer. I can see him outside, the clothes he’s wearing, the sun in his face, his arm leaning upon the table in front of him. His hair is blowing in the wind, the breeze ruffling it, separating the curls. He’s leaning forward, almost ready to move, to act, but his elbow is placed firmly in front of him, a blockade.

After discussing the other paintings and Rembrandt himself in class, I realize how young he was when he drew this self-portrait in comparison to his other words. He obviously looks very young, but the time span was more considerable than I had thought.

Sam Hillestad

Self Portrait with Turned-Up Collar First Impressions

The first thing that jumps out at me in this oil on canvas self portrait is Rembrandt’s eyes. This seems to be the main element of the painting since they set the tone and the mood more than anything else. As I would put it, the tone of the painting is very somber and hollow. His eyes convey a great sadness and emptiness. Adding to this are the sagging wrinkles under his eyes and the very slight tilt of his mouth. In general, his whole face, while technically the brightest part of the painting, is quite dark. This provides an interesting contrast. The rest of the painting is in dark, muddy browns, reds and various shades of black. In fact, all of his clothing is black, except for the red material over his hands, and it is unclear exactly what that material is. The entire area in the lower left corner appears to be blurry and out of focus. The lighting seems to come from up above and perhaps slightly to the right, thus illuminating his face. I see little of significance in the background, save for faint writing dating the painting. However, the coloring of the background and the way the shades of brown flow in and out of each other helps to set the feeling and tone for the painting. In general, it is the somber and dark tone of the entire painting (which is concentrated in his eyes) that intrigued me.

After reading the “to be or not be” speech and specifically after watching Ethan’s Hawkes’ performance of said speech, I saw Rembrandt’s Self Portrait with Beret and Turned-up Collar as very “Hamletesque.” I find drawn towards writing about the eyes and the expression of Rembrandt again, as the eyes match almost perfectly to those of Hamlet’s (via Ethan Hawke and the Hamlet I imagine when reading his lines). I am seeing Rembrandt’s eyes as more melancholy every time I look upon them, except now viewing them through the lense of Hamlet, I see a sense of aimlessness and waywardness as well. This expression seems to fit perfectly with Hamlet’s own aimlessness as he searches in vain for his self and his purpose in life. The overall droopiness of Rembrandt’s face, the blank gaze of his eyes, the small grimace, and the slight tilt downwards of his head all make for an incredibly profound statement of himself as a withdrawn and worn-out figure, possibly pondering the same questions of selfhood that Hamlet was asking himself. One final connection to Hamlet that I can see is the dichotomy between the distinctness of his face and the blurriness of his hands. Hamlet was a highly self-conscious character, yet for most of the play he was unable to act. Perhaps Rembrandt is showing a similar idea in his painting by showing his expression so vividly yet making the hands (agents of action) barely visible. So, for this week at least, I am viewing the self portrait as “Rembrandt as Hamlet.”

Although the painting has been purposefully established to draw attention to Rembrandt’s face and expression via the lighting (it is the only bright part of the painting), this week I will be looking elsewhere, specifically at the opposite corner where his hands rest. I have mentioned his hands in the previous two entries, but I have yet to fully examine that area of the painting. I had mentioned how the dichotomy between the blurry hands and the distinct face have very “Hamletesque” implications, but I would like to explore the hands by themselves. First of all, they are clearly out of focus and blurry, without even recognizable fingers present. Also, it is the only part of the painting other than the face that is not dark brown or black (since it is the only other part of the painting where skin is showing). There is also some sort of a reddish brown cloth draped over his arms. I cannot make out what this material is or what its purpose is yet. However, it does aid in the process of making it look more “natural” to have the hands blurred out, as it allows a flowing object to transition from the more distinct areas in the upper right to the blurry areas of the lower left. This is the only portion of the painting that uses that “flowing” technique (excuse the lack of technical terms), which is another aspect that sets this part of the painting apart from the rest. The idea of making the hands, which likely represent agents of action, as blurry and out of focus seems to imply a certain passivity to Rembrandt’s depiction of himself in this painting. It could also represent and indecisiveness of what action or purpose in specific to pursue. Or, perhaps, it could also show an inability or unwillingness (conscious or not) to act. Regardless, I believe the hands in this painting still point back to Hamlet (as discussed last week) and make for an interesting way to depict the self. I will explore these ideas further once I can piece more of the painting together.

This week I will focus on the aspects of the beret and the turned up collar since that is what the painting is named after. At this point, I do not belief the title was meant to draw special attention to those two elements of the painting. Instead, it seems to merely be an arbitrary way to distinguish the different self portraits. Regardless, the elements of the beret and the turned up collar do bring up some interesting points. First of all, the beret seems to be referring to Rembrandt’s role as an artist. Thus, at least in a small (but not insignificant) way, he is crafting an image of himself as what he actually is, namely an artist. This is interesting when combined with the aspects of the painting that I’ve already discussed. For instance, if he is painting himself as an artist but with an extremely melancholy and “lost” expression, this could mean that he is portraying himself as unsure of his abilities as a painter or unsure that his “true calling” lies in painting. In other words, he is regretting his role as a painter. Of course, this is all conjecture as the beret might be completely random or it may not be meant to be viewed as directly relating to his expression (although that’s doubtful considering the proximity of the elements). Regardless, this is an interesting point that needs further investigation.

The turned up collar at first seemed irrelevant to me. Then I realized that it seemed to be flattering his face to some degree. It hides his jowls and the wrinkles on the lower half of the side of his face. The positioning of the collar and the way he his turning his head makes this move seem deliberate. Rembrandt is being self-conscious here in a physical rather than an abstract sense. Yet this raises a problem since Rembrandt also seems to go out of his way to make the rest of his face look wrinkled and blemished. He could have easily done much more to make himself look “better” or younger. Perhaps he is portraying himself as wishing he were younger and less wrinkled, yet he must cope with reality. Thus, all he can do is turn up his collar to hide part of his face. Again, this idea of him being physically self-conscious as well as conscious of his more abstract “self” raises yet further interesting implications that must be further explored. Eventually, I must begin to piece all of these separate elements together and view them holistically, but for now I will continue to view small elements individually until I get a better understanding of them all. I am constantly surprised at the depth of this painting and at how much there is to see in it...

Since we are reading Descartes this week, I will try to relate this self portrait to Descartes idea of the self as fundamentally a “thinking being.” I’ve discussed at length what I could find in the Rembrandt’s eyes and his wrinkled face thus far, but it changes slightly when considering Descartes. That is because Rembrandt’s face and eyes represent introspection, thought, and passivity, all of which necessarily require thought. Thus, since we aren’t really given any source of possible melancholy from an external source, we are left to assume the source of the sadness written all over his face comes from within. Thus, his thoughts, or more generally his self or his mind is the source of his melancholy and the painting is the physical manifestation of that.

Recently, I wondered why Rembrandt would choose to depict himself as he does in this painting and what that could mean. Since we can never really know his motivations or his thoughts, this is purely conjecture and rhetorical questioning. First of all, did Rembrandt make a self-portrait of himself as melancholy and lost because that was how he felt at the time? Or, similarly, was he recalling this emotional state from the past and was he painting this to capture that feeling? And finally, is it possible that this was purely all an experiment or an exercise and in fact had nothing to do with his self? This final possibility is not one that had even remotely occurred to me until recently. So, it is entirely possible that this painting has nothing to do with his self and is entirely Rembrandt using his own physical appearance to practice depicting different emotions (or perhaps different aspects of his self) through the medium of the self-portrait.

Along the same lines as my last paragraph, I am beginning to look at the painting as less of a self portrait. By that I mean that Rembrandt could have entirely brushed aside considerations of his self or his own emotions. Rather, this could be a painting of man in general, rather than specifically Rembrandt. Again, this is purely conjecture, but it is an interesting possibility. The state of mind and the feeling that Rembrandt is depicting is one that is universal. Whether it be something simple like melancholy or something deeper like the feeling of searching for one’s self and coming up empty, the look that Rembrandt has on his face has a certain transcendental nature to it. It is instantly recognizable as a very “human” look and thus an essential part of the human experience. While this is an interesting theory, and it is likely true to an extent, there are undeniable aspects of individuality in the painting. The two are not mutually exclusive, but it seems that if Rembrandt sought to paint a fundamental human expression through a generic man he would not have chosen to paint a self portrait and would have instead painted somebody with generic qualities. Also, Rembrandt chose to include a beret which signifies himself as a painter rather than a man in general. While the emotion Rembrandt is depicting in himself seems to be universal, it is doubtful that he meant it explicitly as such since he decided to paint himself in such a personal and individualistic manner.

For the first time I have noticed that the tips of Rembrandt’s hair are golden. Also, the stitches in his beret are gold as is the small strip of his undershirt that is visible. All told, this is a very small amount of gold that is visible, but I’ve been looking at this painting for a long time now and this is the first time I’ve seen the gold. Thus, for me it is a “new” color. It is interesting that Rembrandt would choose to add another color when the rest of the painting uses a specific color scheme. In fact, the gold (especially in his hair) does not appear to fit. It is unclear why he would choose to add it. Specifically, there is no reason why the tips of his hair should be gold or yellow unless it is symbolic and representative of something else. The most likely reason is that it is meant to add a further element of age to himself. Paper yellows with age, and perhaps he is showing himself in a similar vane. For me at least that is the effect of adding this new color to his hair. It is just one more way that he makes himself look old and frail and thus he is unflattering towards himself.

After focusing on the hair, it occurred to me that his hair is at an odd angle. The beret makes it stick out in a bunch. It sticks out so much that his ear is completely exposed. This was not an element I had realized until now. Interestingly, special attention is brought to his eyes, nose, mouth, and hands. I’ve written in the past how the eyes are the central focus of the painting. The nose is also angled strangely with a prominent shadow, distinct wrinkle at the top, and even a subtle glare from the light. These are unnecessary touches. The mouth, too, has attention brought to it from its crooked expression. And then, Rembrandt unnecessarily includes his right ear when it would have been more natural if his hair obscured it. So, he is bringing special attention to all his senses, perhaps implying he is abnormally observant of what is going on around him. But, his hands are obscured and blurred meaning his sense of touch is limited or lessened somehow. Further, his general expression of emptiness could actually show a lack of sensation or feeling. So Rembrandt brings attention to his physical senses to say that he has them but he is somehow numbed to the external world. This fits with the overall tone of the painting, but like all my analysis of it, this could just be me reading too much into it.

Wes Sanders

- Light streaming in from the upper left corner, from a window? But if rembrandt was looking into a mirror, the light would be from his upper right side.

- Rembrandt is older at this point-- Looking like he is 60 or so?

- His head wrap is painted with few strokes with a bigger brush-- wet, heavy, impasto paint. Getting looser with his strokes.

- Facial expression looks as though he is wrapped up in contemplation. Possibly wondering if this is the last self portrait he will produce? 

- Two circles in the back ground are perfect which contrasts directly to the expressive nature of his hand and palette. He can paint very loosely but he has the discipline to paint with extreme precision. Great artists have always found a way to paint in various styles to confirm their control over the medium.

1. Rembrandt’s hand here is not fully formed here but rather just quick streaks of paint. He is holding several brushes, a palette, and maul stick, which he holds like a saber under his arm. Although not fully representative, the fact that this portrait includes his working materials seems to say “I am here-- I am the artist.” The fact his hand is unfinished suggests action. Rembrandt had to paint himself sitting still while moving to paint which is paradoxical in itself and thus, his hand isn’t exactly in one specific place. The unfinished nature of his hand contrasts directly with the perfect circles in the background because being able to draw a perfect circle was considered a sign of genius. 2. Rembrandt’s eyes have a story of their own. They seem to be looking at the viewer but also looking through the viewer. His face is half illuminated by a stream of light from the upper left hand side which leaves his slightly turned face half in the dark. When covering his right eye, his facial muscles surrounding his left eye seem to give off an inquisitive and innocent tone. When covering the left side of his face, the right side seems questioning and intense. This could be Rembrandt’s way of showing two of his conflicting views about painting and his life in general. Furthermore, his left eye seems to be looking in a slightly different direction than his right eye which is interesting. This may have to do with the fact that Rembrandt was wall eyed and lacked ocular muscle tissue in his left eye. 3. Rembrandt’s clothing isn’t what you’d expect him to wear while painting. He seems to be wearing these royal robes that one might see on a member of the royal family. Also, although you can’t see his left hand, he seems to have his hand on his hip. This gesture is powerful because it reveals Rembrandt’s confidence. It reveals his confidence in drawing perfect circles; it reveals his confidence in leaving his hand unfinished; it reveals his confidence in painting his old age and really showing it.

4. [Drawing]

5. Drawing Rembrandt’s Portrait with Two Circles was interesting and revealing. Although I was looking closely at the painting before, I think that recreating it made me pay more attention to the subtleties. In order to create a likeness, you must look at each of the facial muscles and the shadows that correspond. While recreating this piece, I noticed in particular how each eye is producing a different emotion. The left eye is giving off a curious look (eyebrow sloping up from left to right) whereas the right eye is more judgmental or focused (eyebrow sloping up from left to right). I also took a closer look at the kid of facial expression made by Rembrandt’s lips. They’re sort of puckered which creates a nonchalant aura about him. The bottom of the painting is more loosely put together which contrasts directly with his face. Although I was able to uncover much more detail by recreating this piece, I was only able to get one degree closer because I was only working with pencil. If I had the time and the patience, I would love to recreate this piece with oil paint to really dissect Rembrandt’s process and intent.

6. After looking at this painting for awhile, I began to think about why the face is more clearly rendered than the rest of the painting. It’s interesting because today many people who paint portraits do so from a photo which allows you to have everything in perfect focus, whereas the human eye can only focus on one thing at a time. Rembrandt wasn’t working with a photograph for obvious reasons which creates a distinct style. Also, when we look at someone, we usually focus on their face first. It could be possible that Rembrandt wanted to fully render his face in focus while leaving the rest of his body loose in order to capture the first few moments upon meeting someone. Furthermore, the fact that Rembrandt left parts of the painting loose means that it was a purposeful move-- this gives the artist agency. The viewer, noticing the string of decisions, is more in tune with the artist at work. This is interesting because the artist at work creates a sense of self while simultaneously creating a self on the canvas.

7. This week I decided to look at Rembrandt’s piece within the context of his time and how that relates to thinking about the self. In the painting, Rembrandt is holding his palette, wearing his painting cap, and wearing a fur robe. The painting cap and the palette function to provide the viewer with a sense of Rembrandt as the artist. The robe, however, is a subtlety that gives Rembrandt his own individualized sense of style. This sense of self created by an artist via self portrait was unheard of during Rembrandt’s time period. Although Rembrandt was known for his love of extravagant clothing (he painted several portraits of people wearing crazy outfits), I believe that he looks much more natural in this portrait. He doesn’t seem to be fooling anyone or trying to convince the viewer that he belongs in the fur robe even when he doesn’t.

8. After reading your questions on canvas about the painting representing “man” in a broader sense, I began to see certain aspects of the painting through that lens. The circles, for example, could be read to represent the circle of life. Rembrandt was in his 60’s by the time he finished this piece, which may suggest that he was thinking about death and the afterlife. Also, I thought about how Rembrandt in this painting could represent wisdom. Although it might be a stretch, I think I could argue that Rembrandt’s posture, his old age, and the circles in the background represent a certain type of knowledge or wisdom about the world. His facial expression seems to convey an immense amount thought. Would it be too much to say that this painting is questioning God just as the scientific revolution happening during this period was putting pressure on the existence of a higher being?

1