Professor Butter Beard and Rembrandt’s “Self-Portrait at the age of 63”
“Every bit of me is devoted to love and art. And I aspire to be a teacher to my young fans who feel just like I felt when I was younger. I just felt like a freak. I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m trying to liberate them. I want to free them of their fears and make them feel that they can make their own space in the world.” – Lady Gaga
The age-old question….. What would you say to your younger self? As I edge towards yet another birthday this week, that very question dances a Celtic jig within my soul. Would I speak to my four-year-old self as a younger brother arrives to share the journey? Or maybe, the ten-year-old as he chooses a trumpet to express his inner singing? Maybe the fourteen-year-old, walking in a dazed shock as his mother is laid to rest. Or most probably, the sixteen-year-old, as he wakes from a dream of kissing a boy.
Photographic portraits exist of all those milestones and provide a vivid facial memory ready for intimate conversation. I wonder if souls throughout history have shared that want, or need, to connect with their younger selves and offer a word or two of encouragement, either subtlety kind or maybe with a “snap-out-of-it” slap. Or, would they invisibly stand and observe as learning moments, such as those experienced by Ebenezer Scrooge or Emily Webb?
Artists’ self–portraits have always drawn me in close for personal dialogues – especially those created by Vincent van Gogh, Albrecht Durer, Artemisia Gentileschi and Cindy Sherman. But today, it is one master who whispers the loudest.
The 17th-century artist Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn created approaching one hundred self-portraits including over forty paintings, thirty-one etchings and about seven drawings. Interestingly, some remain uncertain as to the identity of either the subject (mostly etchings) or the artist (mostly paintings), or the definition of a portrait.
Some of Rembrandt’s self-portraits, especially the earlier ones, were made to practice depicting different expressions and poses, or to experiment with lighting effects. Others – such as the one he painted at the age of 23 in 1629 – were apparently intended to enhance his image as an artist. Sometimes he may have had an eye to the market, or even worked towards a commission. At the time some wealthy patrons collected self-portraits by artists. It is recorded that King Charles I of England owned several, including one by Rembrandt.
In today’s offering, we are looking into the eyes of a man in the last year of his life. Rembrandt is 63 (the same age I will be in three days) and this is one of three self-portraits he painted in the months before his death in 1669.
Here his intentions are not so clear. X-ray images show that Rembrandt did, at first, depict himself as an artist at work – hands open, holding what seems to be a brush. But he changed his mind, apparently to avoid distracting the viewer from the detail of his face. Indeed, it seems as though he has turned a spotlight on his features. The beam bounces off his high forehead and the tip of his nose; it catches on his mottled, pitted brow and the tufts of hair around his lips. By contrast, the dark, shadowy background is thinly painted, the texture of his robe and fur collar sketchy and his folded hands are blurred and indistinct.
It wasn’t only light effects that he used to emphasize his face. The paint here is different. It’s much thicker and more intensively applied; so much so that he appears to be modelling the skin in three dimensions. The sagging fold beneath his right eye is made with the swirl of a heavily loaded brush. The blemishes on his forehead are formed of blotches of coagulated paint. He uses layers too. Like skin, oil paint is semi-transparent, so Rembrandt builds up translucent layers and colors – the greys and whites, pinks, purples and pasty yellows which he sees in his own face.
According to the curator of 17th-century portraits at the National Gallery, the effect seems to be one of intense self-scrutiny, and many later writers and artists have regarded this, together with his other late self-portraits, as part of a process of self-examination – Rembrandt coming to terms with the approach of death, searching with unflinching honesty to know himself. In this portrait some see weariness and resignation in his dark, rheumy eyes, some a trace of self-satisfaction, others the hint of a wry, knowing smile.
The curator also warns that if we want to understand why Rembrandt made the painting, we need to be careful. He believes 17th-century people had different ideas about self-analysis and how the mind works than we do now. And Rembrandt’s motives may have been rather more straightforward, driven less by soul-searching and more by a professional fascination with the textures, flaws and subtleties of human flesh. So it seems as though Rembrandt was not only studying how time was ageing his own skin, he was perfecting how he might depict theirs. That mysterious look in his eye may not be one of existential angst, but that of a painter deeply engaged in the challenges of his art.
With all that being said, I still believe it to be a very personal internal conversation. And, as I stepped into the kitchen this morning to bake, full of thoughts of artists and birthday self-reflection, I found myself returning to madeleines. The petite cakes offer a perfect canvas for layers of my favorite flavors since youth – butter, vanilla and mint. And the ridges capture rivers of dark chocolate swirling with wisps of quieter white chocolate, almost like stray white hairs (all well-earned) curling within the once dark ginger mane that both Rembrandt and I shared.
As I packed the madeleines to feed the actors in this afternoon’s matinee, I realized exactly what I would say to my younger self: “Somewhere over the rainbow, my dear lad, skies are blue. And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.”
Chocolate Mint Madeleines
32 Madeleines
13 Tbsp unsalted butter – plus a few tablespoons more to prep the pans
2 Tbsp honey
4 large eggs
½ cup granulated sugar
1 tsp vanilla paste
1 tsp peppermint extract
1 ¼ cup all-purpose flour
2 tsp baking powder
½ tsp fine sea salt
9 ounces white chocolate
11 ounces dark chocolate
1) Melt the butter and honey together and let cool slightly.
2) In a medium bowl, whisk together the all-purpose flour, baking powder and salt.
4) In a food processor, whirl together the eggs, sugar, vanilla paste and peppermint extract until smooth and fully combined. Add the dry mix and pulse a few times until fully incorporated. With the processor running, slowly pour in the butter/honey. Once fully combined, pour the batter into a glass bowl, cover with plastic wrap and let it rest in the refrigerator for at least one hour (or overnight).
5) Preheat your oven to 375 degrees. Brush your two madeleine pans with melted butter and chill them until you are ready to bake.
6) Spoon the batter into the first pan to come 2/3 up the sides. Bake for 8-9 minutes until the “bump” is fully risen and the edges are just beginning to brown. While the first pan is baking, prepare the second pan for baking. Make sure to bring your oven back up to 375 degrees before baking the second pan.
7) Let the madeleines cool in their pan for 3-4 minutes and then turn out onto the cooling rack. Clean the madeleine pans and dry completely.
8) Melt the white chocolate and the dark chocolate separately in bowls set over lightly simmering water. Stir both until smooth. Using a pastry bag, pipe the white chocolate in your chosen design into the shells of the madeleine pan. Let the white chocolate set. Then use a spoon to add 1 ½ tsps of dark chocolate over the set white. Immediately press a cooled madeleine back into the pan and press down slightly. Let the chocolate fully set for up to three hours before removing the chocolate-covered madeleines from the pan.
