“All portraiture is a lie,” observes Kim Sajet, standing before the revered Lansdowne portrait of George Washington. Artist Gilbert Stuart painted only Washington’s face from life; the body was a stand-in. The canvas is also replete with symbols: a rainbow, an inkwell shaped like Noah’s Ark, books about the American revolution and constitution.
Portraits are a four-way fabrication, argues Sajet, director of the Smithsonian National Portrait Gallery, an oasis of calm in the maelstrom of modern Washington. There is the subject: the more famous they are, the stronger their opinion. There is the artist, striving to be true to their own aesthetic. There is the patron, often with a strong, very particular view of their own. And finally there is the one party that constantly evolves: the audience.
“The most immediate portrait you can imagine today is a selfie or snapshot on your phone,” the 59-year-old says. “But even then we manipulate how we take those pictures constantly; particularly now with filters, you can do all sorts of things to make yourself look good. Portraiture is always just a moment in time and those moments are becoming shorter and shorter in terms of what actually constitutes the reality.”
