The following is an oral presentation I gave for Touching the Art 201, an 8-session art appreciation course created and hosted by Luc Travers, author of Touching the Art and Stories in Paint. I made some minor revisions to the original text.
This is a Rembrandt portrait of a young man whose name and background are unknown.
Who is he? How might we tell by studying the portrait’s details and how Rembrandt presented them?
First, what details tell us he’s young? He’s clean-shaven and has rosy cheeks and lips, which project a healthy youthfulness, as does his bundle of long, chestnut brown hair. His doe-eyes are attentive and hold promise, and although his face is wrinkle-free, a few lines under his eyes suggest he’s on the latter side of his 20s.
He also looks content, confident and proud. The mildly upturned corners of his mouth hint at a pending, pleasant smile. His upright posture and calm demeanor capture his confidence. Pride is evident in his slightly raised chin, and his three-quarter pose seems intent on displaying his left shoulder. Why? Probably to proudly showcase his luxurious velvet cloak, held secure by a gold chain. He also sports an impeccable leather jacket and tilts his barrette with an angular flair.
What does the quality of his wardrobe tell us about him? Perhaps he’s from an aristocratic family? But we must also assess the steel plate on his upper chest. It’s called a gorget, or neck armor, which reveals his more specific identity as a soldier in the Dutch army.
Here, I draw on my knowledge of Dutch history. Rembrandt painted this portrait in the 1630s, amid the Dutch Golden Age when the relatively free, explorational and trade-centered Netherlands was the wealthiest nation on earth and able to provide its soldiers with rich attire.
“His upright posture and calm demeanor capture his confidence.”
In addition to his youth, what other factors imply he is a newly commissioned soldier? Notice his gorget is shiny and exhibits no battle marks, nor do his clothes show signs of wear. His new position in the military speaks to his promise, sense of accomplishment and pride.
With all of these details in mind, I can now identify a specific person: a young man who is poised and proud to start his career as a soldier for the prosperous Dutch state.
Compare and Contrast
Now, to underscore this specific theme, I’d like to imagine our young man with contrasting characteristics. That is, what if his jacket was tattered, his cloak muddied or bloodied, and his gorget scared by sword blows? First, I’d have to reconsider that he’s an experienced soldier, not a novice. Moreover, what if he were also scuffy and graying, his eyes downcast and mouth turned to a frown? All of these features would collectively suggest he’s battle-weary and wanting to retire, not ready to launch his military career. He’d be more like the men in Rembrandt’s portraits Old Man in Military Costume and Old Man with a Gold Chain.
Rembrandt’s portraits Old Man in Military Costume and Old Man with a Gold Chain.
Such a study in contrast also helps me to develop a broader theme for our portrait, which is: a young man is in the initial stage of shaping the direction of his life.
Connecting with the Portrait
Now, in relation to my general theme, I must tell you about my long, two-part history with this portrait. I chose this painting for my final [Touching the Art 201] project because I want to connect with it even more than I already have.
First, I was in my mid-teens when I decided I wanted to take art more seriously and bought a series of picture booklets on artists from Michelangelo to Monet to Modigliani. At the time, I had been questioning my Catholic upbringing and the existence of God. So the religious subjects of the Renaissance artists had little appeal to me. And I found the paintings of Picasso and other moderns incomprehensible. But the vivid, secular subjects in the Rembrandt booklet caught my eye. I cut from its pages The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicholas Tulp and Portrait of a Young Man and hung both on my bedroom walls alongside my posters of Led Zeppelin and Aerosmith. There was just something about the young man dressed in 17th-century Dutch attire that spoke to me, although at the time I couldn’t verbalize why.
My Spiritual Experience
Rembrandt’s Portrait of a Young Man appears in its frame at the Uffizi Gallery in Florence. (Photo: Joseph Kellard)
Now, let’s fast forward several decades to 2019, when I first visited Florence and Rembrandt’s portrait had more or less faded from memory. I was roaming through the Uffizi Gallery when I unexpectedly came upon this portrait—and I was captivated! Seeing this painting in the flesh was a spiritual experience. Everything about the portrait—the warm, complimentary earth tones, the moody interplay of light and shade—especially the vignetting and the shine on the gorget—and the exceptional clarity made me feel as if I could reach over the picture frame and pet the youth’s velvet cloak. The portrait had a living, breathing presence unlike any artwork I’d ever seen.
This experience was spiritual because it connected with some of my most cherished values. I felt joy and nostalgia at reconnecting with this artwork from my youth. I experienced pride in my ability now to identify the qualities that ignite my passion for it and painting more generally. And I felt reverence for any artist able to achieve such mastery.
That’s me as a teenager sporting long hair.
This past year—including during this course with Luc’s assistance—I’ve been trying to understand more deeply why I felt the deepest connection with this portrait out of all the paintings in those booklets of 21 artists from my youth. At the surface, I realized that in part it was because he was a secular subject who was about my age and had long hair like me. I was also intrigued by his curious clothes. In short, I thought he looked cool and he fit my personal context at the time.
Logo and Movie
But I’ve also discovered more fundamental connections. I recalled that years before I’d first seen the portrait, I was totally taken by the logo of a new professional football franchise, the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. It featured the head of a dashing mustachioed pirate with long, swirling hair under a stylish hat turned up on one side and sporting a fancy feather. He also wore an earring, held a dagger in his smiling mouth, and winked with one eye, conveying brash confidence. I thought he was so cool that I asked my mom to buy me a Buccaneers jacket even though I was a devout Miami Dolphins fan.
The original logo of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.
Also, I’m reminded of a movie I enjoyed as a young kid, the adventurous Three Musketeers, with English actor Michael York as D'artagnan. The Musketeers were also fancily dressed in 17th-century period clothes and evoked efficacy and confidence in their swordsmanship.
I've come to realize that my attraction to the Bucs logo and Musketeers movie influenced my appreciation of Rembrandt's Portrait of a Young Man, which shares similar characteristics. All featured fancy period dress and projected confidence and an enthusiasm for life that resonated with me. In particular, I hung Rembrandt's portrait on my bedroom wall because it represented to me, at least implicitly, confidence, pride, and a sense of accomplishment. And just as he’d moved into the next phase of his life, I too was preparing to move into adulthood. At that age, I hungered for the same sense of direction about my uncertain future.
Finally, rather than speculating about what Rembrandt’s young man might say to me now, I believe it is only fair that I express my gratitude to him: “You helped inspire me to take my own life, work and career seriously. And even though I wasn’t able to fully recognize or express this back then, I can now. Thank you!”