Anyone with an interest in portraiture will want to see this exhibition – a glorious opportunity to see more than 50 of John Singer Sargent’s paintings gathered in one place. The fashion theme provides a fascinating through-line, a starting point to appreciate the skill and complexity of Sargent’s compositions. But there are multiple layers to explore in the pictures’ fabric.

The hang of the Tate show – rightly, I think – is firmly based on the paintings, with a handful of gowns used sparingly, but effectively, to add a ‘third dimension’ to our appreciation and understanding of both Sargent’s technique, but also the sitter’s style. (One could imagine a companion exhibition mounted somewhere like the V&A where the costume takes centre-stage.)

The word ‘fashion’ of course evokes clothing, but also the popular customs and practices of the time, and how these ideas interact with each other. The exhibition is alive to all these angles, and the accompanying captions often draw out how the sitters’ outfits reflect how they would want to be ‘seen’, or how Sargent might want to portray them.

Here, Ena and Betty Wertheimer represent the epitome of society glamour. Painting the daughters of a wealthy art-dealer patron, the artist nods at his sponsor’s field of expertise: Betty’s head double-framed by another picture, and Ena’s hand resting on a highly decorative urn. But nothing detracts from the splendour of their outfits or the character present in their faces.

The exhibition draws out a wry contrast between the powerful men of Great Britain and North America, as depicted by Sargent – as shown here: the grand self-assurance of the colonial governor, compared with the informal, but no less commanding, presence of the US President.

Some of the examples that interested me most showed how Sargent noticed, picked up on or manipulated clothing to enhance the portraits. During an extended visit, Sargent apparently made an instant decision to paint Lily Millet (below) on seeing her wearing the blue shawl. This is actually one of my favourite pictures in the entire exhibition: he captures not only the shawl, but the spontaneity. The subject’s forward-leaning, casual pose – even a slightly arched eyebrow suggests an amused indulgence towards her guest – and the strokes making the edges of the shawl almost shimmer into the background, suggest a proper (in both senses) intimacy: Sargent responds with a portrait of warm, brilliant beauty.

This painting of Eleanora Iselin demonstrates Sargent’s instinctive approach in a different way. Despite the sitter having a selection of gowns ready, Sargent decided she should wear the less formal dress she happened to be wearing. Not only did he apparently relish trying to capture the varying shades of black in the satin, he must have also recognised that the outfit would complement her slightly austere air: as the caption tells us, he later fixated on “that dominating little finger”.

Sargent seemed to paint hands as if they could reveal as much as the face. Unsurprisingly, I was drawn towards a couple of portraits with a musical element. Almina (another Wertheimer daughter) is dressed in Turkish fashions, playing a sarod. Her left hand holds down a chord: some slight whitening at the nail could signify the pressure of the finger on the string, or merely the nail catching the light. There is also some ambiguity over the right hand: is Almina about to strum downwards across the strings, or just resting at the top of the instrument. As the strings are invisible – so possibly vibrating out of our perception – I like to think she is performing.

The caption for this image of Amalia Subercaseaux explains how the pose – with the sitter turning from the piano towards the viewer – is designed to showcase the dress. But again, I was captivated by her hands: the strength of her grip on the chair, complementing the long, elegant fingers resting on the keys, their careful placement suggesting discipline and technique. (Holding down a single key is a lovely touch, as though a part of her is always playing, even while she’s having her portrait painted.) 

The overwhelming power of the exhibition surely remains in the subjects’ expressions, those vivid Sargent faces. But by reminding us about the surrounding parts of the canvas, the show also reminds us how Sargent uses all these elements to draw us to the main feature. As someone more used to portrait photography, I was struck by how familiar some of the approaches felt. 

For example, in this celebrated painting of Robert Louis Stevenson and his wife, Sargent captures the author pacing, detached. In this thought-world, he is separated from Fanny (who seems to be on the point of disappearing from the picture altogether) by leading lines down the dark passageway, perhaps to mysterious or as yet unimagined ideas or stories.

Lines also emerge from the choice of location (a chapel interior) to set a reverse frame around the head of Elsie Palmer.

I also found it hard not to think of ‘bokeh’ (the deliberate aesthetic use of out-of-focus backgrounds common in portrait photos) when appreciating how Sargent emphasises the precision of his subject’s facial expressions through a richly varied use of blurring across fabrics, and also wider backgrounds. This is a key feature of the Lily Millet ‘blue shawl’ painting above, but also in the spectacular portrait of Mary Hammersley. The plane of focus is of course in line with her face, and the highly decorative torso section of her gown. Her hand stretching back behind her is already starting to go out of focus, the effect intensified into the backdrop. We lose focus in the foreground, too: compare how the trim of her dress just above her feet is relatively sharp compared to the bottom left of the picture, which is ‘nearer’ the viewer.

Here, the effect is even more startling as Sargent paints his niece Rose-Marie sitting by a brook. I found myself baffled by the caption here, which states this is not a portrait and that the skirt and shawl are the true subjects of the composition. To me, this is a deftly-drawn, highly-refined rendition of the face lost in contemplation, every other aspect of the painting in service to it, a swirl of Impressionistic shape and colour (Sargent admired – and painted – Monet).

My brief photo-tour only scratches the surface of an exhibition designed to delight and surprise. Warmly recommended.

AA

‘Sargent and Fashion’ is at Tate Britain until 7 July 2024.

(Exhibition photos by AA.)