Professor Butter Beard and Volker Hermes’ “Hidden Portraits”
“Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.” - Oscar Wilde
I love the electric glee, the intense scrutiny and the soulful sigh you experience when you suddenly happen upon a new artist whose language you surprisingly speak. It’s like the magic of recognition when you catch a stranger’s eye across the gallery and know karma is at work, cascading you with waves of lust, curiosity and the longing to touch. It’s Romeo and Juliet’s moment when they tentatively remove their masks at the candlelit masquerade ball and realize their journeys will, and always have been, intertwined.
I remember the moment with Vincent at the age of ten, when the Cleveland Museum of Art security guard called me out for finger tracing the texture of the sunflowers. With Rembrandt, in a way-too-warm basement art studio, enlarging again and again the slide of his self-portrait with a single grey hair. With Michelangelo, when a beam of sunlight danced directly over the lowered grieving eyes of the mother within the Pieta.
It seems to happen more and more often these days. Just last week, while chaperoning 84 college freshmen at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, it happened again. I had raced from Roman to Egyptian, from Asian to American, from Sienna to Tibet, as I received texts from students whose souls had finally connected with an artist’s expression. I stole away to indulgently reward myself in the museum bookstore. My poor basket was nearly overflowing with holiday ornaments, brooches, a new peacock feather scarf, and way-too-many books on Vincent’s letters and the history of cloisters, when my attention was snagged by an image I thought looked familiar but twisted at the same time – as if it were a masked guest at the Met’s masquerade gala.
The oversize book was a collection of Volker Hermes’ “Hidden Portraits,” and I found myself unceremoniously giggling as I turned one page after another, until my iPhone buzzed again with another student finally understanding the power and language of Hatshepsut. I added the book to my basket, checked out as quickly as possible (thank Buddha for my membership discounts), and speed walked to the far corner of the Egyptian gallery to joyfully witness yet another student’s wide-eyed recognition of eternal beauty.
Since then, I have journeyed with Hermes as he explores the phenomenon of portraiture. His “Hidden Portraits” are interventions in the genre of portrait painting, based on historical models ranging from the Renaissance to the Biedermerier period. These portraits are first of all “hidden” because Hermes usually looks for less canonical models for his “interferences” – portraits that are somewhat less frequently visited in art history. The elements that he reproduces, enlarges, and rearranges around the figure using modern digital processes, and with which he dresses the figure slightly differently, are also sometime somewhat hidden.
Francesca Raimondi, Professor of Theoretical Philosophy, writes, “The more sophisticated sense of hidden, however, lies above all in the way in which the rearranges fabrics, ribbons and jewelry alter the modalities of the figure’s representation and the sense of individuality in general; an operation that delves into the historical texture of the images with a contemporary sensibility in order to more or less conceal the figures, but as the same time to emphasis something about them.”
“It all began with my love of painting,” writes Hermes.
“Painting has always touched and enchanted me, and I often wonder why. It is perhaps because I don’t not know everything about it, it remains a mystery to me – exciting, vibrant, and sometimes strange in the best sense of the word.” Oh, I understand that, my friend.
But here is where he triggered our connection: “Creating a portrait of oneself, or having one made – as was common in the days before photography – is a need we know only too well today. Contemporary society is fixated on individuality and personal identity. Time and again, I have noticed how much we focus on the face in portraiture but, while this seems an obvious starting point, it is also an obstacle. In a way, this is a ‘selfie’ problem. After all, who is going to pay attention to shoes or accessories in paintings – objects that no longer hold the same meaning – when the facial expression promises easier access?”
By simply adding a “mask,” the identity of the individual is partially or totally concealed. We now are forced to bring our own assumptions and intuitions to the works of art in a refreshing mixture of knowing and feeling. A new magical connection. Oscar Wilde’s “truth.”
I’m always looking to challenge the traditional expectations of holiday baking, and this week, Hermes’ journey joined mine like two parallel train tracks crossing over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s house. I “masked” the original “portrait” of a traditional pumpkin custard pie with an additional thin layer of toasted pecans swimming in a decadent molasses syrup. A loving combination of both of your Thanksgiving favorites on one plate, and don’t forget the cinnamon whipped cream!
I close this week with another quote. James Baldwin wrote, “Love takes off the masks we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.”
Happy Thanksgiving to all us crazy moonbeams!
Pecan-Masked Pumpkin Pie
Inspired by Paul Prudhomme
All-Butter Crust:
1 ½ cups all-purpose flour
2 Tbsp granulated sugar
¾ tsp fine sea salt
8 Tbsp unsalted butter, well chilled
4 Tbsp ice-cold water
Pumpkin Layer:
1 large egg
1 Tbsp heavy cream
1 Tbsp unsalted butter, melted
1 15-ounce can pure pumpkin puree
4 Tbsp dark brown sugar
2 Tbsp granulated sugar
1 tsp vanilla paste
½ tsp fine sea salt
½ tsp ground cinnamon
½ tsp ground allspice
Ground nutmeg to taste (I use ¼ tsp)
Pecan Layer:
2 large eggs
1/2 cup granulated sugar
¾ cup dark corn syrup
1 ½ Tbsp unsalted butter, melted
1 tsp vanilla paste
½ tsp fine sea salt
½ tsp cinnamon
1 cup pecan halves
1) For the dough: Whisk together the dry ingredients. Grate the butter into the dry and toss with your fingers to just incorporate. Sprinkle the ice water over and gather/press into a dough. Wrap the dough in plastic wrap and chill at least one hour. Preheat the oven to 325. Roll the dough into to 1/8” thick round and fit into a 9” springform pan letting the ends lay over the edge.
2) In one medium bowl, whisk together all the ingredients for the pumpkin layer. In another medium bowl, whisk together all the ingredients for the pecan layer and then stir the pecans. Spoon the pumpkin layer into the pie shell. Pour the pecan layer over the pumpkin layer. Fold down the edges of the pie crust (like a galette).
3) Bake for 90-95 minutes until the filling is puffed and set. Cool completely before releasing from the springform pan.
