Imagine a leader. What do you see? How are they presented? What are they wearing? Are they up on a platform or down on the ground? In uniform or in a dress? Are they regal and smart? Full frontal or turned to the side? If it’s a woman, what comes to mind? Last week, Theresa May’s official portrait, by the Persian-born British-based painter Saied Dai, was unveiled. I don’t know what I was expecting – but it definitely wasn’t this. At first glance, I found her appearance cold and androgynous, the style evoking that of wartime with its muddying palette and sharp angular shapes. The more I sat with it, the more I realised how good a painting it was, with incredible psychological insight into its subject and the times in which we are living.
I was in my early 20s when May was leader. I saw her as a stern ruler who was detrimental to our future with Europe. She had no dynamism or imagination, just strict, staunch policies and that metronomic “Brexit means Brexit”, which now feels like a lifetime ago. Yet here I see her portrayed as both powerful and timid. Dressed in a blue suit, layered with a navy coat, her flesh barely visible, May stands stoically and silently. In her left hand, she clutches a lily of the valley flower signifying the month of May – or is it referencing the wheat she loved to run through? There’s a flash of gold, too, with her wedding ring and hints at her femininity with her red nails.
