EXHIBITIONISM: The Art of Display: Adam Birtwistle
The next artist from EXHIBITIONISM opening on the 23 January is Adam Birtwistle…
A primary function of a portrait is its representation of an absent figure as present. However, this is questioned by Birtwistle’s almost fragile mark-marking, and the manner in which the figures shrink towards the bottom of the paintings, almost as if the sitter is gradually slipping out of the image. He subverts the tradition of noble portraiture, which relied upon the depiction of admirable and impressive figures, whose stance, expression, and accoutrements contributed to what can be understood as their noble identity made visible. Rather than allowing the sitter to keep their composure, such that their own desirable virtues can pervade through their image, Birtwistle robs them of this by deliberately unnerving his subjects as much as possible; ‘I ask them, what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done? Quite soon they’re looking shaky, just as I want them’. He goes much further with his interrogations, but one look at the bashful and disconcerted eyes of his subjects already reveals as much.
We can see how Dr. Dee desperately avoids the artist’s penetrating gaze, and therefore the viewer’s own. Instead of the sitter dominating the image and those who look upon him, both the artist and viewer dominate, transforming the sitter’s presumed authority into the very opposite. Dr. Dee becomes a laughable character; his presumed wisdom and status as an older gentleman become utterly irrelevant as he is reduced to the emotions he displays. His portrait-worthy status is destroyed and the portrait can essentially be seen as quite the comic failure. The background is adorned with childlike drawings of cars and toys, which could almost suggest the diminished gaze could be due to the Doctor himself having been guiltily caught running amok with a crayon.
Birtwistle has been bewildering portrait sitters for more than two decades, and he has received a number of commissions from musical and other creative institutions. Janáček comes from a series of six portraits of composers whose operas were to feature in the Glydenborne Festival of 2001, with his father as one of the subjects. Sir Harrison Birtwistle’s career as a composer would have familiarised his son with the stage, and it could be inferred that the dramatic lighting employed in seemingly more serious pieces such as Janáček draws upon such theatrical signatures. The background is a painted deluge of mahogany sweeps, emphasising both the Czech composer’s sophisticated dress and his endearing vulnerable and puzzled stance. His arms hang limply by his sides as if he doesn’t quite know what to do with them, his bias towards the base of the painting reducing his physical size.
The Private Collection’s inclusion of such intimate and expressive, albeit unusual, portraiture perfectly complements its status as a domestic setting. The subjects depicted by Birtwistle are figures who have been successful in their fields. Images of such characters would have been appropriate for a study, a place of work, a place where one harnesses inspiration to enable the pursuing of one’s own intellectual endeavours. Birtwistle’s pieces therefore update the setting, with their contemporary take on a historical genre.
Leos Janáček, 2001
Dr. Dee, 2005
Tempera and gouache on linen paper
