Raphael 1511
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Raphael 1545
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Titian 1543
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Titian 1546
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Titian 1548
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Velázquez 1650
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David 1805
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Durand 1983
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Durand 1996
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Durand 2004
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John Paul II
1983
Oil on linen, 160 x 133 cm.



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John Paul II
DURAND
In the context of Durand's masterpiece, Cecil Gould's 1983 essay succinctly introduces the challenges presented to artists from Raphael to Durand by the conventions of pontifical portraiture.
Thoughts on Papal Portraiture and Durand's 1983 Portrait of John Paul II
When a painter faces the task of portraying a ruler he normally has a choice between an official and a private image. Is Queen Elizabeth to be shown in coronation robes, or exercising the corgis? In the first she will be wearing velvet, satin, ermine and innumerable jewels, and will be shown in an attitude that conforms with tradition and to what is expected of a sovereign. In the latter it will be a case of tweeds, a headscarf and sensible shoes; also of a pose, which is no pose, since it should appear completely unpremeditated.
In the case of a Pope, though the Bishop of Rome has, at most periods of history, exercised secular as well as spiritual sovereignty, this particular problem does not arise. The Pope has no private image. If he were to be portrayed in tweeds the image would no longer be that of the Pope. In this case, therefore, there can be no complete informality: the artist has only the degree of formality to select. But the artist has enough problems of a different kind. He must always convey something of the spirituality of the sitter, as well as fitting degree of majesty, humanity, sympathy and benevolence. And irrespective of which aspect of their subject’s mission the artist chooses to emphasize, a decision must always be made between a number of practical alternatives. Is the Pope to be shown seated, or standing; alone, or in company; indoors or out; from the front, profile or three-quarters; perhaps with his body facing in one direction, his gaze in another? And how is the Holy Father to be illuminated; from above or from one side or the other; or from the front?
In Durand’s life size portrait John Paul II sits at an angle and turns his head. He is looking at the spectator and appears to be about to speak. His left wrist is on the knob of the throne, the hand continuing upwards; the line of the forearm in a gesture between a blessing and an admonition. The noonday light falls directly from overhead. It highlights and shadows starkly the Holy Father’s face and hands, his massive forehead and furrowed brow-his ferments, with a heightened realism. But in the abstracted background its trajectory is suggested schematically rather than realistically by a series of triangles of different shades of white. The suggestion of timelessness thus conveyed is emphasized by the lack of any furniture or walls in the setting, and by the coat of arms suspended heraldically with no visible foundations. This is a Pope of the twentieth century but still the Pope.
The fact that there are probably more portraits in existence of previous Popes than of the holders of any other office may be seen as a help to the artist or a deterrent, depending on the way he looks at it. The thought of Raphael, Titian or Velasquez peering over his shoulder might deter any modern portraitist. But if he looks at their portraits for inspiration - without thoughts of emulation - he can still profit by their ideas and solutions as well as from their occasional lapses.
Durand has said that in painting John Paul II he had in mind Raphael’s portrait of Pope Julius II in the National Gallery, which was the first to adopt the three-quarter length, oblique-angled seated pose which has become almost standard ever since, and he has also studied all the greatest papal portraits of a later age. I do not think it useful that an art historian, another, or myself, should take it upon himself to attempt to interpret an artist’s intention. The work itself should make them clear. But it is indeed apparent to anyone who looks at Durand’s profound likeness of consummate physiological insight, that despite his study of his illustrious predecessors he has produced something original, a study in whites - not reds - very much of our own time. Durand has, it seems to me, struck a nice balance between the traditional and the contemporary, between the literal and the symbolic and between the official and the personal. The result should prove moving to all faiths.
Cecil Gould
London 1983
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Julius II
1511-12
Oil on wood, 108 x 80.7 cm
National Gallery, London
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Julius II
RAPHAEL
Portraits of Julius II as an old man exist in three versions: in the National Gallery, London, in the Uffizi Gallery, Florence and in the Palazzo Pitti, Florence. The London version is considered the original.
The Della Rovere Pope is depicted - according to historical sources, in the master's hand - in a portrait "so animated and true to life that it was frightening to behold, as though it were actually alive" (Vasari).
A choleric and active man, much criticised during his turbulent pontificate for personally leading his troops in strenuous military campaigns, he is represented as at once forceful - as in the left hand - aristocratic the right hand - and meditative.

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Julius II
1512
Tempera on wood, 108.5 x 80 cm
Galleria degli Uffizi, Florence

Michelangelo
Moses (detail)
ca. 1513-1516
San Pietro in Vincoli, Rome
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As Jonathan Jones, writing in the Guardian, observes :
Julius doesn't look at you, as if he won't or can't bear to; and the aged, melancholy softness of his face only adds to the sense that his disapproval is terrible and final. This is God himself turning his head away, leaving us to depart miserably from his presence. When contemporaries saw it, Vasari wrote, they found it 'so true and so lifelike that the portrait caused all who saw it to tremble, as if it had been the living man himself'. The painting makes you feel like a terrified retainer called into the Pope's presence for some savage dressing-down. Instead of shouting, he is too sad to speak, too disheartened to look you in the eye.
. . . It is the beard that enables this portrait to be dated. It is soft and strong, milky-white yet bristling like a hog's hair paintbrush. The face from which it radiates has lined, sagging flesh yet its structure is forceful. There is sensuality to the Pope's ochre and bronze flesh. Only Raphael and Titian could make old men's skin as beautiful as this. On his hands are signet rings of emerald and ruby. He clutches a silk handkerchief, indicating his inward sensitivity. The golden acorns on either side of his head are family symbols. Beneath the green drapery in the background are traces of an earlier design of the papacy's crossed keys . . .
Julius's image as bearded patriarch invites comparison with Michelangelo's Moses carved on the Pope's unfinished tomb at the church of San Pietro in Vincoli, Rome.
Michelangelo's Moses and Raphael's Julius both look past us, are seated in majesty over us, and have the power to judge us for eternity. Michelangelo said when he fell out with Julius he could feel the rope around his neck. Looking at Raphael's portrait, we are in the presence of unquestionable authority.
Jonathan Jones The Guardian, November 25, 2000
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Paul III
1543
Oil on canvas, 106 x 85 cm
Museo Nazionale di Capodimonte, Naples


Paul III
1548
Oil on canvas
The Hermitage
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Paul III
TITIAN
This major portrait of Paul III is certainly the artist's first picture of the Pope, painted in Bologna in the spring of 1543. The numerous copies of this work prove that it was regarded as the official portrait of the Pope by the sitter and his family.
The precise representation of the head in the detailed drawing of the hair and the beard and the exact modeling of face with full impasto indicate the attention given by the artist in the desire to please the sitter. The strong white highlights upon the rose coloured cape are fully in the style of Titian at this period. In general, the figure seated on a chair had become the established formula for papal portraits from the time of Raphael. However, the psychological power that the artist was able to project, through the slope of the shoulders, the position of the hands [with his right hand the Pope shields the papal purse in a Judas-like gesture], as well as the alert, penetrating glance of the wily old man surpasses all others.
Paul III's recognition of the need for reform within the church was the major positive achievement in a reign dominated by political intrigue and a ceaseless desire for personal, family, and papal aggrandizement. Under him the Council of Trent was convened with the support of Charles V and opposed by France. As an art patron Paul III instituted the construction of the Palazzo Farnese in Rome which was completed after his death by Cardinal Alessandro Farnese. Paul III engaged Michelangelo to paint the Last Judgement in the Sistine Chapel as well as the Conversion of St. Paul and the Crucifixion of St. Peter in the Cappella Paolina of the Vatican.
Harold E. Wethey The Paintings of Titian, Book II: The Portraits
Phaidon
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Paul III
1548
Oil on canvas
Toledo
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This excellent copy, with its vivid reds, was produced in Titian's workshop.
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Paul III and his Grandsons
Alessandro and Octavio Farnese
1546
200 x 127 cm.
Museo Nazionale di Capodimonte, Naples

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Paul III and his Grandsons Alessandro and Octavio Farnese
TITIAN
In this masterpiece, perhaps one of the great psychological portraits of all time, the dissensions rife between Paul III and his overly ambitious grandson, are clearly revealed. The elderly Pope, bent with age, turns quickly and looks suspiciously at the obsequious Octavio, who at that very time was scheming with the old man's opponents. It would be impossible to imagine a posture more revealing of feigned reverence than that of the bowing Octavio or a face more Machiavellian, with all that the word implies. Cardinal Alessandro Farnese, the great churchman and art patron, then 26, standing quietly and impassively at the left, provides a foil to the explosive situation before him. Various writers have concluded with good reason that Titian had been witness to a violent scene between Paul III and Octavio, and for that reason may have displeased the Pope. That fact would explain why the artist left the canvas without finishing the last details.
Harold E. Wethey
The Paintings of Titian: Book II: The Portraits
Phaidon
Observing the Farnese Pope's grandsons, Marion Kaninski notes with alacrity that,
Octavio is about to bow to the Pope. This is a formal part of the ceremony of greeting the Pope. It starts with three bows and ends with the Pope's foot being kissed as a sign of total submission. Titian moved Paul III's shoe, embroidered with a golden cross, clearly into the picture as a sign of Octavio's next movement. Every visitor to the Pope, even members of the clergy, were obliged to bow in this way. Titian, however, depicts only Octavio in the posture, while Alessandro [perhaps aspiring to be the next Pope] is standing erect behind his grandfather. Only the emperor's [Charles V] own relatives had to carry out the ceremonial greetings; every aspect of the picture indicates his submissive attitude.
Marion Kaninski
Titian, Könemann
Exhibition continues: Velásquez, David, Durand
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With special thanks to the Web Gallery of Art. Click Here.
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