Rembrandt, “The Old Jew” in the Hermitage, St. Petersburg, 1654 and Titian, Portrait of Pietro Arentino, the Frick, New York, 1537.

Rembrandt lived in the Amsterdam ghetto or at the edge of it for some time; he had the opportunity to know and observe the Jewish population of Amsterdam.  He paints his subject with the same sympathy, attention and style as he painted his Protestant subjects.  This is in contrast to Shakespeare whose Merchant, on the whole, is unfair and hostile to Jews.

Perhaps there is some iconography in the portrait that distinguishes the old man as a Jew:  the hat, the style of his beard?  However, most of the Jews in Amsterdam in Rembrandt’s time were Sephardic, refugees from Spain and Portugal, and dressed without any required identifying clothing.  Nor were there any residential restrictions.

The immense weariness of the face, the roughness of the hands, the inward slump of the shoulders, the weight of his shabby clothes tell us the burdens of age and mankind prey on his mind and body.  He could be any one of Rembrandt’s old men or women.  Death of wife and children, disease and failing memory, financial vicissitudes, loss of friends, family and attacks of enemies – all this and more occupy his mind.  He looks sadly, pityingly, at us; he knows we will have his problems, cares, and heart ache by the time we reach his age.  Rembrandt’s masterful brush stokes, coloring, shadowing – I wish I could see this picture.

The picture haunts me:  I can’t get it out of my head.

In contrast, let’s look at Titian’s portrait of his friend Pietro Arentino.  Arentino is said to be the founder of modern European pornography, which got him in trouble with some popes and won favor from other popes.  He was also a poet and a satirist.  His dirty books are still in print.  Titian paints Pietro as a big man; the portrait suggests a powerful and thoughtful figure.  His arched eyebrows dominate his face and, in one possible reading, hint at an odd and untrustworthy man.  (Note the arch of brows reflected in the almond eyes and running down his nose).  He looks upward out of the far corner of his eye away from the viewers; unlike the Old Jew he does not seek to communicate with the viewer.  We can only speculate why.  The intensity of the gaze focused elsewhere is the psychological high point of this portrait.  Perhaps he is evasive or scheming, or perhaps he is dreaming as poets are supposed to do.  

For another reading, I can imagine he is about to break out into a smile or a grin.  He is about to share a joke with his friend, or something bon mot has just occurred to him which his readers will enjoy:  Titian will ask him, "What's so funny?"

His extensive fur scarf and shiny copper toned coat tell us he’s a man of some status.  Although a Venetian would have known from the clothing he was not a noble, I’ve known this portrait since college age visits to the Frick & always thought Pietro was a noble.

Two approaches to a portrait.  Rembrandt, through his subject, engages empathetically with the viewer, and across the centuries we care about the old man.  Titian’s subject ignores us:  he’s self-absorbed and does not share his thoughts at all.  Both portraits are, or appear to be, technical tours de force; only Rembrandt’s gives us a glimpse into the character of the sitter.  Perhaps Arentino was distant and abstracted and that is what Titian is trying to tell us.

And, anyway, his books are still in print.

Matisse, “Music Lesson,” 1917, Barnes Foundation

Here is a French family in during the first World War; although the outcome of the war was uncertain, the Germans never far from Paris, and Matisse’s mother was trapped behind enemy lines, for a moment at least, this family seems tranquil and peaceable. Matisse’s oldest child, Marguerite, gives Pierre, his youngest child, a piano lesson. We can always identify Marguerite, the boy’s half sister, in Matisse’s paintings because she had a tracheotomy and wore the black collar to hide the hole. Pierre is learning classical music and some of Haydn is on the piano top; perhaps Chopin is on the music stand.  Seated, smoking and reading, is the older brother Jean; he plays the string instrument.  I can’t remember if he played the violin or the viola.  The three siblings sit comfortably, tranquilly together; Jean does not mind the mistakes, the repetitions, and the interruptions of the music lesson.

In the garden, in the rocker, is Matisse’s wife Amélie, and behind her, a sculpture by Matisse.  Perhaps we can detect a bit of ambiguity in Matisse’s feelings for Amélie.  Her small size seems out of proportion to the others in the picture and the voluptuous nude draws our attention away from the lady of the house.  The sculpture strikes the same pose as his controversial Blue Nude, which he painted a decade earlier; Amélie was Matisse’s model for that picture.  A sort of self-referential joke, perhaps, but placing a nude sculpture of his wife behind a picture of her gives me an uneasy feeling.

The painting on the wall is Matisse’s Woman on a High Stool.  It is typical of Matisse to reference his own paintings in his works.  A bit narcissistic?

I believe this is one of Matisse’s most intimate paintings.

A red piano!  But, for Matisse, the colors, bright and exciting, rub along harmoniously and are not jarring or unexpected.  The floor is the color of wood; the garden, the color of plants; the nude, the color of a nude.  The arabesque work of the music stand carries over in the grille work at the edge of the balcony and the sides of the rocker.  The swirls of the garden plants echo those of the balcony.

Unlike the previous paintings, this painting is completely comfortable; a hundred kilometers away young men are dying by the tens of thousands, but this family, on this beautiful day, has put the war aside.