by These are the works of art rarely seen by the public: the custom personal portraits hung in homes, perhaps above a mantelpiece, in a study or bedroom; images of ourselves, family and other people, sometimes even our pets.
With selfies available to anyone with a smartphone and professional photography affordable and accessible, the desire for a painted portrait speaks to the appeal of tradition and its unique process – the artist’s interpretation of the subject that often reveals more than likeness.
“There’s something that happens in that close, that face-to-face contact,” says Joanna Gilmour, curator at the National Portrait Gallery in Canberra. “You can’t define it or quantify it.”
The popularity of portraiture prizes, including the Archibald and the Darling, as well as the success of the ABC television series Anh’s Brush with Fame, confirm that the art form is here to stay. “We’re hardwired to respond to people whether we like it or not, and portraits have such an effective way of [tapping into] that,” says Gilmour. “It’s a very accessible genre.”
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While we love looking at portraits, commissioning one is something else entirely. Portrait commission fees can range from $5,000 to $20,000 and beyond, depending on the scope of work, materials used, process and time commitment, as well as the profile of the artist.
There are very few people who make portraits in Australia who are in sufficient demand to make it a full-time career. Even Ralph Heimans, whose portrait. Power. The Impact exhibition now at the National Portrait Gallery features portraits of Queen Mary of Denmark, King Charles III and Dame Judi Dench, who had to leave Australia to try it on.
Although it may be niche, Gilmour has no doubt that the personal portrait will live on. “People commission a portrait because they want an image of the people they love and respect. They have been making portraits for those reasons as long as portraits have been made.”
Here three Australians share the painted portraits that hang in their homes – and the stories behind them.
‘I was interested in how he looked’
Wendy Brown’s response to her husband’s desire to commission a portrait of her was not positive at first. She was horrified. “She’s my worst nightmare,” says the surgeon.
The idea came to her husband, Melbourne art collector and property developer Andrew Cook, out of a desire to express his love for his wife and respect for her achievements. Brown eventually came around to the idea. “I guess I was interested in what it might look like,” she says.
Cook was familiar with Yvette Coppersmith’s portrait work, and says he was struck by her works. “You feel like you’re getting a glimpse into someone’s inner life.” He contacted the Coppersmith gallery and, after the Archibald prize-winning artist met the couple, she accepted the commission.
Over the following months, Coppersmith compiled a dossier of reference points from historical paintings for inspiration and spent hours with Brown experimenting with different looks, clothes, colors and facial expressions.
The process took about a year and Coppersmith worked around other commissions and exhibitions. “That time gives you a chance to solve problems. It might not take 12 months to paint, but it takes 12 months to fix things,” says Coppersmith.
The portrait shows a side of Brown that is very different from her medical persona. “Intimacy”, says Coppersmith, is much more challenging to achieve in an institutional commission. “This is the same person they find at home; it’s a visual anchor that reminds you how you feel.”
For Brown, it’s more than just a beautiful painting. “Yvette took me on a journey and created this piece of art,” she says. “It’s an invaluable gift.”
‘The best present I have ever received’
When Mikhayla Carey decided to commission a portrait of her three children for her husband, Jarwin, she knew there could only be one artist for the job. Having already painted several portraits of Carey’s extended family, a work by Bundjalung and Biripai woman and artist, Noni Cragg, was one of the family favourites.
The portrait was planned as a Christmas surprise, so neither Jarwin nor her children knew anything about it. Carey sent Cragg many photos and notes about Koda, Arlo and Nala to help the artist capture the children’s personalities and a connection to Gumbaynggirr Country on the north coast of New South Wales where the family lives.
First Nations portraits have always played an important role in Cragg’s practice. “I want to celebrate people who have historically not been celebrated in fine art institutions – people of color, women and gender diverse people,” she says.
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In each portrait she usually includes plants, animals and birds that are important to her subjects and their country. For Carey’s commission, that meant painting a garlaa, the Nala turtle named after him, and a jaawan (lyrebird) for Jarwin. She also included an Aboriginal flag and local birds and plants.
Painted in Sydney, where Cragg is based, Carey only saw the final work when the family opened the package together. “When Jarwin saw it he said, ‘This is the best present I have ever received.'”
The portrait hangs in the family dining room, and the children love to show it to visitors. Carey says that Jarwin promises that this is the first thing he would rescue if they ever had a house fire.
“If anything happened to him, I would be so heartbroken because I know he will never be able to be replaced,” she says. “It’s priceless.”
‘It was very healing’
After surviving breast cancer, Avis Tolcher continued to live with the devastating psychological impact of past events. So when the then 60-year-old former dancer asked artist Yvonne East to paint her, she was looking for more than a majestic likeness.
Tolcher had seen an exhibition of East’s work at the Murray Bridge Regional Gallery in South Australia and was inspired to commission a portrait of her own. “The pictures were beautiful, even if the content wasn’t. I thought, maybe I could heal myself if I saw myself like that?”
Tolcher requested a nude portrait that showed her mastectomy scars, so after agreeing to the commission, East took some time to think about how she would approach the work. “For about two months, I did nothing. It was simmering, simmering, simmering. Then I woke up one morning and I could see him in my mind’s eye. I called her up and said, ‘Let’s do the sitting.’” Three days later, the portrait was completed.
Tolcher invited East and some close friends to a “reveal” at home. When the curtain was removed, “Avis stood completely still and put her hand up to cover her mouth,” East recalls. “Everyone was quiet, and she said in a fragile but clear voice, ‘Oh my god … I’m beautiful.'”
“It was very healing,” says Tolcher. “And everyone there understood exactly what I meant.”
For years, the portrait hung in her living room where visitors could see it, but after meeting her second husband, David, it now hangs above the four-poster bed he made for her. Tolcher says the painting will always be “very precious” to her.
