Free Titian by John Berger Page B

whose old master was the young Raphael!
    I think of the self-portraits painted when he was in his sixties or seventies. Or himself as the penitent Saint Jerome, painted when he was in his eighties. (Perhaps it’s not a self-portrait; it’s only my guess, but I feel he was thinking intensely about himself when he was painting it.)
    What do I find? A man who is physically imposing and has considerable authority. You can’t take liberties with him. With the late, decrepit Rembrandt it would have been easy. This one knows how power works, and he has exercised his own. He has turned the trade of being a painter into a profession – like that of a General or an Ambassador or a Banker. He’s the first to do this. And he has the confidence that goes with it.
    And also a painterly confidence. In his late works, he is the first European painter to display – rather than hide or disguise – his manual gestures when putting the pigment onto the canvas. Thus he makes painting physically confident in a new way – the act of the painting hand and arm becomes expressive in itself. Other artists like Rembrandt or van Gogh or Willem de Kooning will follow his example. At the same time, his originality and boldness were never foolhardy. His attitude to everything in Venice was realistic.
    And yet, yet… the more I look at the way he painted himself, the more I see a frightened man. I don’t mean a coward. He doesn’t take risks, but he has courage. He does not normallyshow his fear. But his brush can’t help but touch it. It’s most evident in his hands. The’re nervous like the hands of a money-lender. Yet his fears could not, I think, have been concerned with money.
    A fear of death? The Plague was rampant in Venice. A fear leading to penitence? A fear of judgement? It may have been any of these, but they are too general to help us understand him or to get closer to him. He lives to be a very old man. The fear lasts a long time. And long-drawn-out fear becomes doubt.
    What provoked this doubt in him? I suspect it was intimately connected with Venice, with the city’s special kind of wealth and commerce and power. All of which, as you say, had to do with the flesh.
    Love, John
    GIUDECCA, VENICE
    John
,
    Several times whilst I was wandering through the exhibition, I crossed paths with, was followed by, lost sight of, and then again found myself beside, an old man. He was alone and muttering to himself.
    The first time I saw him, he was coming back from one of the last rooms and very decidedly making for thepainting
Christ Carrying the Cross
. And there at my side he stopped.
    â€˜One uses painting’, he suddenly said, ‘to clothe oneself, to keep warm …’
    At first, I felt put out and scowled at him, but he went on, as if nothing had happened.
    â€˜Jesus carries his cross and, me, I carry the art of painting, I wear it like something woollen.’
    He had won me over.
    Now he was making for the
Rest on the Flight into Egypt
. In some way, I must have annoyed him, for he appeared to be angry, spitting out disconnected words.
    â€˜The fur, ough! The fur of my painting… stuff, stuff …’
    By
The Portrait of a Man
, he spoke directly to the sitter, poking his nose towards the painted nose.
    â€˜First I painted you all dressed up, then I did a whole painting of an animal’s skin!’
    He didn’t need to turn round to know that I was following him, and as we passed a group of visitors who were listening to their guide, he said to me out of the corner of his mouth, as if it were a joke, ‘Dogs, rabbits, sheep, they all have their fur to keep them warm and, me, I want to imitate them with my brushes!’
    When he next spoke, not without a little pride, I wasn’t sure whether he was referring to the portrait of a Cardinal or to the
Portrait of a Man
.
    â€˜Nobody else has painted men’s beards like that!’ he said.