Portrait of a Lady by Rosalind Moran
Portrait of a Lady
Portrait miniatures first captured eyes and gazes
in the 1520s; tokens at French and English courts
Some were made for worship, fingers stroking
their oils; others were simply objects to possess
The subjects, faces fine as butterflies’ wings,
peered out from within their gilded frames.
The wealthy began bearing Queen Elizabeth’s image
as a sign of loyalty; obsequious ego brushstrokes
Miniature painting soon became a genteel pastime
– not unlike flirtation! And as time went on,
budding artists turned the hobby into trade, offering
commission-only coin-sized keepsakes of loved ones…
These were carried in pockets, frames smoothed
within one’s palm – or shut tightly in lockets
(from which the subjects could never escape). More
than ever, we bore our hearts on sleeve or in hand.
Strange it may seem to shed light on the miniature
when the art of capturing likenesses has been so
thoroughly eclipsed. In 1839, photography snapped up
the rich, hungry market for faces – fixed, eternal
Few artists took up miniature painting thereafter.
This means if one wishes now for a lady’s portrait, one
must ask kindly, find good lighting; assure her she looks
fine (like art)! Make her laugh. Throw open the shutters.
It is 2020 and I do not carry a portrait miniature. I
have neither eyes in a locket nor a keepsake to clasp.
That said – I have a glancing of her smile; gazing up as
I unlock my phone (no keyhole). Is this the end of art history?
Today’s life trappings could seem impoverished – yet
I draw comfort from our endlessly familiar, artless ways.
Capturing character falls flat within screens as well as frames.
Caress my face, not my portrait. Neither of us is an oil painting.
Executive Producers
Daniel Henson
Sue White
