{"id":684,"date":"2015-10-15T18:35:12","date_gmt":"2015-10-15T18:35:12","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/courses.candelalearning.com\/zelixart102\/?post_type=chapter&p=684"},"modified":"2016-01-06T00:47:08","modified_gmt":"2016-01-06T00:47:08","slug":"portraits-of-the-insane","status":"publish","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/courses.lumenlearning.com\/atd-herkimer-arthistory2\/chapter\/portraits-of-the-insane\/","title":{"raw":"Portraits of the Insane","rendered":"Portraits of the Insane"},"content":{"raw":"

After The Raft of the Medusa<\/i><\/h2>\r\nAt the end of 1821 the leading Romantic painter in France, Th\u00e9odore G\u00e9ricault, returned from a year long stay in England where crowds had flocked to see his masterpiece The Raft of the Medusa<\/i> displayed in the Egyptian Hall in Pall Mall, London. Despite the success of the exhibition, the French government still refused to buy the painting and his own prodigious spending meant that he was strapped for cash and in no position to embark on another ambitious and expensive large scale project like The Raft<\/i>. His health too was soon to suffer. On his return to France, a riding accident led to complications, causing a tumor to develop on the spine that proved fatal. He died, aged 32, in January 1824.\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_685\" align=\"alignright\" width=\"300\"]\"An Figure 1. Th\u00e9odore G\u00e9ricault, A Woman Addicted to Gambling<\/em>, 1822, oil on canvas, 72 \u00d7 64 cm (Mus\u00e9e du Louvre, Paris)[\/caption]\r\n\r\nPerhaps the greatest achievement of his last years were his portraits of the insane. There were ten of them originally. Only five have survived: A Man Suffering from Delusions of Military Command<\/i>; A Kleptomaniac; A Woman Suffering from Obsessive Envy<\/i>; A Woman Addicted to Gambling; and A Child Snatcher<\/i>.\r\n\r\nNo information is available for those that have been lost. According to the artist\u2019s first biographer, Charles Cl\u00e9ment, G\u00e9ricault painted them after returning from England for \u00c9tienne-Jean Georget (1795\u20131828), the chief physician of the Salp\u00eatri\u00e8re, the women\u2019s asylum in Paris. The paintings were certainly in Georget\u2019s possession when he died.\r\n

Three Theories for the Commission<\/h2>\r\nHow the two men met is not known for sure. Possibly Georget treated G\u00e9ricault as a patient, or perhaps they met in the Beaujon Hospital, from whose morgue G\u00e9ricault had taken home dissected limbs to serve as studies for his figures in The Raft<\/i>. What is more debated though, is Georget\u2019s role in the production of the paintings. There are three main theories. The first two link the portraits to the psychological toll taken out of G\u00e9ricault whilst producing his great masterpiece and the nervous breakdown he is believed to have suffered in the autumn following its completion in 1819. The first theory runs that Georget helped him to recover from this episode and that the portraits were produced for and given to the doctor as a gesture of thanks; the second puts forward that Georget, as the artist\u2019s physician, encouraged G\u00e9ricault to paint them as an early form of art therapy; and the third is that G\u00e9ricault painted them for Georget after his return from England to assist his studies in mental illness.\r\n\r\nIt is this last that is generally held to be the most likely. Stylistically, they belong to the period after his stay in England, two years after his breakdown. Also, the unified nature of the series, in terms of their scale, composition and color scheme suggest a clearly defined commission, while the medical concept of \u201cmonomania\u201d shapes the whole design.\r\n

Early Modern\u00a0Psychiatry<\/h2>\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_686\" align=\"alignright\" width=\"300\"]\"A Figure 2. Th\u00e9odore G\u00e9ricault, Portrait of a Man Suffering from Delusions of Military Command<\/em>, 1822, oil on canvas, 81 \u00d7 65 cm (Sammlung Oskar Reinhart, Winterhur)[\/caption]\r\n\r\nA key figure in early modern psychiatry in France was Jean-Etienne-Dominique Esquirol (1772\u20131840), whose main area of interest was \u201cmonomania,\u201d a term no longer in clinical use, which described a particular fixation leading sufferers to exhibit delusional behavior, imagining themselves to be a king, for example. Esquirol, who shared a house with his friend and prot\u00e9g\u00e9 Georget, was a great believer in the now largely discredited science of physiognomy, holding that physical appearances could be used to diagnose mental disorders. With this in mind, he had over 200 drawings made of his patients, a group of which, executed by Georges-Francoise Gabriel, were exhibited at the Salon of 1814. As an exhibitor himself that year, it seems highly likely that G\u00e9ricault\u00a0would have seen them there.\r\n\r\nGeorget\u2019s work developed on Esquirol\u2019s. An Enlightenment figure, he rejected moral or theological explanations for mental illness, seeing insanity, neither as the workings of the devil nor as the outcome of moral decrepitude, but as an organic affliction, one that, like any other disease, can be identified by observable physical symptoms. In his book On Madness<\/i>, published in 1820, following Esquirol, he turns to physiognomy to support this theory,\r\n
In general the idiot\u2019s face is stupid, without meaning; the face of the manic patient is as agitated as his spirit, often distorted and cramped; the moron\u2019s facial characteristics are dejected and without expression; the facial characteristics of the melancholic are pinched, marked by pain or extreme agitation; the monomaniacal king has a proud, inflated expression; the religious fanatic is mild, he exhorts by casting his eyes at the heavens or fixing them on the earth; the anxious patient pleads, glancing sideways, etc.<\/blockquote>\r\nThe clumsy language here\u2014\u201cthe idiot\u2019s face is stupid\u201d\u2014seems a world away from G\u00e9ricault\u2019s extraordinarily sensitive paintings, a point that begs the question whether G\u00e9ricault was doing more than simply following the good doctor\u2019s orders in producing the series, but instead making his own independent enquiries.\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_688\" align=\"alignright\" width=\"300\"]\"An Figure 3. Th\u00e9odore G\u00e9ricault, Portait of a Woman Suffering from Obsessive Envy (The Hyena)<\/em>, 1822, oil on canvas, 72 \u00d7 58 cm (Mus\u00e9e des Beaux-Arts, Lyons)[\/caption]\r\n\r\nG\u00e9ricault had many reasons to be interested in psychiatry, starting with his own family: his grandfather and one of his uncles had died insane. His experiences while painting The Raft<\/i>must also have left their mark. The Medusa\u2019s surgeon, J.B. Henry Savigny, at the time G\u00e9ricault interviewed him, was writing an account of the psychological impact the experience had had on his fellow passengers and, of course, there was G\u00e9ricault\u2019s own mental breakdown in 1819. It seems only natural then that he would be drawn to this new and exciting area of scientific study.\r\n\r\nAlternatively, some critics argue that G\u00e9ricault\u2019s work is a propaganda exercise for Georget, designed to demonstrate the importance of psychiatrists in detecting signs of mental illness. In their very subtleties they show just how difficult this can be, requiring a trained eye such as Georget\u2019s to come to the correct diagnosis. According to Albert Boime, the paintings were also used to demonstrate the curative effects of psychiatric treatment. If the five missing paintings were ever found, he argues, they would depict the same characters\u2014but after treatment\u2014showing their improved state, much like \u2018before and after\u2019 photographs in modern day advertising.\r\n\r\nThis, of course, is impossible to prove or disprove. What is more challenging is Boime\u2019s general criticisms of early psychiatry which, he argues, by classifying, containing and observing people was effective only in silencing the voices of the mentally ill, rendering them invisible and therefore subject to abuse. The fact that the sitters of the paintings are given no names, but are defined only by their illnesses would seem to confirm this view and, for that reason, many modern viewers of the paintings do feel disconcerted when looking at them.\r\n

The Portraits<\/h2>\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_689\" align=\"alignright\" width=\"300\"]\"A Figure 4. Th\u00e9odore G\u00e9ricault, Portrait of a Kleptomaniac<\/em>, 1822, oil on canvas, 61 \u00d7 50 cm (Museum of Fine Arts, Ghent)[\/caption]\r\n\r\nThe five surviving portraits are bust length and in front view, without hands. The canvases vary in dimensions but the heads are all close to life-size. The viewpoint is at eye level for the three men but from above for the women, indicating that the paintings were executed in different places. It seems likely that the women were painted in the women\u2019s hospital Salp\u00eatri\u00e8re, while the men were selected from among the inmates of Charenton and Bic\u0207tre.\r\n\r\nNone of the sitters is named; they are identified by their malady. None look directly at the viewer, contributing to an uneasy sense of distractedness in their gazes that can be read as stillness, as though they are lost in their own thoughts, or as disconnectedness from the process in which they are involved. These are not patrons and have had no say in how they are depicted.\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_690\" align=\"alignright\" width=\"300\"]\"A Figure 5. Th\u00e9odore G\u00e9ricault, Portait of a Child Snatcher<\/em>, 1822, oil on canvas, 65 \u00d7 54 cm (Museum of Fine Arts, Springfield, Massachusets)[\/caption]\r\n\r\nEach is shown in three-quarter profile, some to the left, some to the right. The pose is typical of formal, honorific portraits, effecting a restrained composition that does not make it apparent that they are confined in asylums. There is no evidence of the setting in the backgrounds either, which are cast in shadow, as are most of their bodies, drawing the focus largely on their faces. The dark coloring creates a sombre atmosphere, evocative of brooding introspection. Their clothing lends them a degree of personal dignity, giving no indication as to the nature of their conditions, the one exception being the man suffering from delusions of military grandeur who wears a medallion on his chest, a tasseled hat and a cloak over one shoulder, which point to his delusions. The medallion has no shine to it and the string that it hangs from looks makeshift and worn.\r\n\r\nThe paintings were executed with great speed, entirely from life and probably in one sitting. Critics often remark on the painterly quality of the work, the extraordinary fluency of brushwork, in contrast with G\u00e9ricault\u2019s early more sculptural style, suggesting that the erratic brushwork is used to mirror the disordered thoughts of the patients. In places it is applied in almost translucent layers, while in others it is thicker creating highly expressive contrasts in textures.\r\n

Romantic Scientists<\/h2>\r\nWhat perhaps strikes one most about the portraits is the extraordinary empathy we are made to feel for these poor souls, who might not strike us immediately as insane, but who certainly exhibit outward signs of inward suffering.\r\n\r\n[caption id=\"attachment_693\" align=\"alignright\" width=\"300\"]\"A Figure 6. John Constable, Cloud Study<\/em>, 1822, oil on paper laid on board, 47.6 \u00d7 57.5 cm (Tate Britain)[\/caption]\r\n\r\nIn bringing the sensitivity of a great artist to assist scientific enquiry G\u00e9ricault was not alone among Romantic painters. John Constable\u2019s cloud studies, for example, were exactly contemporary with the portraits and provide an interesting parallel. Both artists capture brilliantly the fleeting moment, the shifting movements in Constable\u2019s cumulus, stratus, cirrus and nimbus, in G\u00e9ricault the complex play of emotions on the faces of the insane. Not since the Renaissance has art illustrated so beautifully the concerns of the scientific domain; in G\u00e9ricault\u2019s case teaching those early psychiatrists, we might be tempted to think, to look on their patients with a more human gaze.","rendered":"

After The Raft of the Medusa<\/i><\/h2>\n

At the end of 1821 the leading Romantic painter in France, Th\u00e9odore G\u00e9ricault, returned from a year long stay in England where crowds had flocked to see his masterpiece The Raft of the Medusa<\/i> displayed in the Egyptian Hall in Pall Mall, London. Despite the success of the exhibition, the French government still refused to buy the painting and his own prodigious spending meant that he was strapped for cash and in no position to embark on another ambitious and expensive large scale project like The Raft<\/i>. His health too was soon to suffer. On his return to France, a riding accident led to complications, causing a tumor to develop on the spine that proved fatal. He died, aged 32, in January 1824.<\/p>\n

\"An<\/p>\n

Figure 1. Th\u00e9odore G\u00e9ricault, A Woman Addicted to Gambling<\/em>, 1822, oil on canvas, 72 \u00d7 64 cm (Mus\u00e9e du Louvre, Paris)<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Perhaps the greatest achievement of his last years were his portraits of the insane. There were ten of them originally. Only five have survived: A Man Suffering from Delusions of Military Command<\/i>; A Kleptomaniac; A Woman Suffering from Obsessive Envy<\/i>; A Woman Addicted to Gambling; and A Child Snatcher<\/i>.<\/p>\n

No information is available for those that have been lost. According to the artist\u2019s first biographer, Charles Cl\u00e9ment, G\u00e9ricault painted them after returning from England for \u00c9tienne-Jean Georget (1795\u20131828), the chief physician of the Salp\u00eatri\u00e8re, the women\u2019s asylum in Paris. The paintings were certainly in Georget\u2019s possession when he died.<\/p>\n

Three Theories for the Commission<\/h2>\n

How the two men met is not known for sure. Possibly Georget treated G\u00e9ricault as a patient, or perhaps they met in the Beaujon Hospital, from whose morgue G\u00e9ricault had taken home dissected limbs to serve as studies for his figures in The Raft<\/i>. What is more debated though, is Georget\u2019s role in the production of the paintings. There are three main theories. The first two link the portraits to the psychological toll taken out of G\u00e9ricault whilst producing his great masterpiece and the nervous breakdown he is believed to have suffered in the autumn following its completion in 1819. The first theory runs that Georget helped him to recover from this episode and that the portraits were produced for and given to the doctor as a gesture of thanks; the second puts forward that Georget, as the artist\u2019s physician, encouraged G\u00e9ricault to paint them as an early form of art therapy; and the third is that G\u00e9ricault painted them for Georget after his return from England to assist his studies in mental illness.<\/p>\n

It is this last that is generally held to be the most likely. Stylistically, they belong to the period after his stay in England, two years after his breakdown. Also, the unified nature of the series, in terms of their scale, composition and color scheme suggest a clearly defined commission, while the medical concept of \u201cmonomania\u201d shapes the whole design.<\/p>\n

Early Modern\u00a0Psychiatry<\/h2>\n
\"A<\/p>\n

Figure 2. Th\u00e9odore G\u00e9ricault, Portrait of a Man Suffering from Delusions of Military Command<\/em>, 1822, oil on canvas, 81 \u00d7 65 cm (Sammlung Oskar Reinhart, Winterhur)<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

A key figure in early modern psychiatry in France was Jean-Etienne-Dominique Esquirol (1772\u20131840), whose main area of interest was \u201cmonomania,\u201d a term no longer in clinical use, which described a particular fixation leading sufferers to exhibit delusional behavior, imagining themselves to be a king, for example. Esquirol, who shared a house with his friend and prot\u00e9g\u00e9 Georget, was a great believer in the now largely discredited science of physiognomy, holding that physical appearances could be used to diagnose mental disorders. With this in mind, he had over 200 drawings made of his patients, a group of which, executed by Georges-Francoise Gabriel, were exhibited at the Salon of 1814. As an exhibitor himself that year, it seems highly likely that G\u00e9ricault\u00a0would have seen them there.<\/p>\n

Georget\u2019s work developed on Esquirol\u2019s. An Enlightenment figure, he rejected moral or theological explanations for mental illness, seeing insanity, neither as the workings of the devil nor as the outcome of moral decrepitude, but as an organic affliction, one that, like any other disease, can be identified by observable physical symptoms. In his book On Madness<\/i>, published in 1820, following Esquirol, he turns to physiognomy to support this theory,<\/p>\n

In general the idiot\u2019s face is stupid, without meaning; the face of the manic patient is as agitated as his spirit, often distorted and cramped; the moron\u2019s facial characteristics are dejected and without expression; the facial characteristics of the melancholic are pinched, marked by pain or extreme agitation; the monomaniacal king has a proud, inflated expression; the religious fanatic is mild, he exhorts by casting his eyes at the heavens or fixing them on the earth; the anxious patient pleads, glancing sideways, etc.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

The clumsy language here\u2014\u201cthe idiot\u2019s face is stupid\u201d\u2014seems a world away from G\u00e9ricault\u2019s extraordinarily sensitive paintings, a point that begs the question whether G\u00e9ricault was doing more than simply following the good doctor\u2019s orders in producing the series, but instead making his own independent enquiries.<\/p>\n

\"An<\/p>\n

Figure 3. Th\u00e9odore G\u00e9ricault, Portait of a Woman Suffering from Obsessive Envy (The Hyena)<\/em>, 1822, oil on canvas, 72 \u00d7 58 cm (Mus\u00e9e des Beaux-Arts, Lyons)<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

G\u00e9ricault had many reasons to be interested in psychiatry, starting with his own family: his grandfather and one of his uncles had died insane. His experiences while painting The Raft<\/i>must also have left their mark. The Medusa\u2019s surgeon, J.B. Henry Savigny, at the time G\u00e9ricault interviewed him, was writing an account of the psychological impact the experience had had on his fellow passengers and, of course, there was G\u00e9ricault\u2019s own mental breakdown in 1819. It seems only natural then that he would be drawn to this new and exciting area of scientific study.<\/p>\n

Alternatively, some critics argue that G\u00e9ricault\u2019s work is a propaganda exercise for Georget, designed to demonstrate the importance of psychiatrists in detecting signs of mental illness. In their very subtleties they show just how difficult this can be, requiring a trained eye such as Georget\u2019s to come to the correct diagnosis. According to Albert Boime, the paintings were also used to demonstrate the curative effects of psychiatric treatment. If the five missing paintings were ever found, he argues, they would depict the same characters\u2014but after treatment\u2014showing their improved state, much like \u2018before and after\u2019 photographs in modern day advertising.<\/p>\n

This, of course, is impossible to prove or disprove. What is more challenging is Boime\u2019s general criticisms of early psychiatry which, he argues, by classifying, containing and observing people was effective only in silencing the voices of the mentally ill, rendering them invisible and therefore subject to abuse. The fact that the sitters of the paintings are given no names, but are defined only by their illnesses would seem to confirm this view and, for that reason, many modern viewers of the paintings do feel disconcerted when looking at them.<\/p>\n

The Portraits<\/h2>\n
\"A<\/p>\n

Figure 4. Th\u00e9odore G\u00e9ricault, Portrait of a Kleptomaniac<\/em>, 1822, oil on canvas, 61 \u00d7 50 cm (Museum of Fine Arts, Ghent)<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

The five surviving portraits are bust length and in front view, without hands. The canvases vary in dimensions but the heads are all close to life-size. The viewpoint is at eye level for the three men but from above for the women, indicating that the paintings were executed in different places. It seems likely that the women were painted in the women\u2019s hospital Salp\u00eatri\u00e8re, while the men were selected from among the inmates of Charenton and Bic\u0207tre.<\/p>\n

None of the sitters is named; they are identified by their malady. None look directly at the viewer, contributing to an uneasy sense of distractedness in their gazes that can be read as stillness, as though they are lost in their own thoughts, or as disconnectedness from the process in which they are involved. These are not patrons and have had no say in how they are depicted.<\/p>\n

\"A<\/p>\n

Figure 5. Th\u00e9odore G\u00e9ricault, Portait of a Child Snatcher<\/em>, 1822, oil on canvas, 65 \u00d7 54 cm (Museum of Fine Arts, Springfield, Massachusets)<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Each is shown in three-quarter profile, some to the left, some to the right. The pose is typical of formal, honorific portraits, effecting a restrained composition that does not make it apparent that they are confined in asylums. There is no evidence of the setting in the backgrounds either, which are cast in shadow, as are most of their bodies, drawing the focus largely on their faces. The dark coloring creates a sombre atmosphere, evocative of brooding introspection. Their clothing lends them a degree of personal dignity, giving no indication as to the nature of their conditions, the one exception being the man suffering from delusions of military grandeur who wears a medallion on his chest, a tasseled hat and a cloak over one shoulder, which point to his delusions. The medallion has no shine to it and the string that it hangs from looks makeshift and worn.<\/p>\n

The paintings were executed with great speed, entirely from life and probably in one sitting. Critics often remark on the painterly quality of the work, the extraordinary fluency of brushwork, in contrast with G\u00e9ricault\u2019s early more sculptural style, suggesting that the erratic brushwork is used to mirror the disordered thoughts of the patients. In places it is applied in almost translucent layers, while in others it is thicker creating highly expressive contrasts in textures.<\/p>\n

Romantic Scientists<\/h2>\n

What perhaps strikes one most about the portraits is the extraordinary empathy we are made to feel for these poor souls, who might not strike us immediately as insane, but who certainly exhibit outward signs of inward suffering.<\/p>\n

\"A<\/p>\n

Figure 6. John Constable, Cloud Study<\/em>, 1822, oil on paper laid on board, 47.6 \u00d7 57.5 cm (Tate Britain)<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

In bringing the sensitivity of a great artist to assist scientific enquiry G\u00e9ricault was not alone among Romantic painters. John Constable\u2019s cloud studies, for example, were exactly contemporary with the portraits and provide an interesting parallel. Both artists capture brilliantly the fleeting moment, the shifting movements in Constable\u2019s cumulus, stratus, cirrus and nimbus, in G\u00e9ricault the complex play of emotions on the faces of the insane. Not since the Renaissance has art illustrated so beautifully the concerns of the scientific domain; in G\u00e9ricault\u2019s case teaching those early psychiatrists, we might be tempted to think, to look on their patients with a more human gaze.<\/p>\n\n\t\t\t

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Candela Citations<\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t
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CC licensed content, Shared previously<\/div>