Nameless and Defiant:

Anonymity in Paintings by Vermeer and Gericault

Unnamed women are no rarity in art history. Some lose their
identity to the relentless tug of time, their histories forgotten. Others
never had a name to begin with: beautiful bodies standing in for the
elusive Ideal Woman, or unusual faces meant to evoke a character.
Both Girl with a Pearl Earring by Johannes Vermeer and Portrait of a
Woman Addicted to Gambling by Theodore Gericault feature women
shown under the banner of a specific type: pretty girl in jewelry,
woman gone mad. In many cases, any questions would stop there. The
subjects are simply accepted as a fictional character, a symbol for a
recognizable type. The identity of the physical being shown isnt
pursued, because it isnt this identity that is being displayed. But these
two paintings, different as they are in style and subject, share a spark
of the unconventional that refuses to be contained within a single
convenient label. They break out of the formula, and in doing so leave
the viewer without the comfort of an easy analysis of character.
Disarmed, the viewer is forced to see the individual being beneath the
convention. All understanding of who the subject is and her position in
society is called into question, as the audience is faced with the
startling truth that these are living, breathing women, and cannot be
easily figured out. And thanks to the aforementioned eroding power of
time, and societys own fear of naming those deemed not fully human,

no definite answer can be found, leaving the viewer to struggle with

and eventually accept the indefinable depths of human identity.

Girl with a Pearl Earrings notoriety hardly needs any elaboration.

Know to some as the Mona Lisa of the North, the painting has risen
to iconic status in the last century; and like its Southern counterpart,
Girl owes much of its popularity to the mystery surrounding it. As with
all Vermeer works, the images young subject is unidentified. No
evidence remains of who sat for the painting, or even who
commissioned the work. Some art historians suggest that the girl may
in fact be Vermeers twelve- or thirteen-year-old daughter, but there is
little proof to support the theory aside from a coincidence of ages and
a face resembling the models in another work by Vermeer, The Art of
Painting. Lack of hard evidence has certainly done nothing to stifle the
public imagination, however: fictional backstories of varying historical
accuracy abound, including a best-selling novel by Tracy Chevalier that
was later adapted for both the stage and the screen.
Much of this intriguing uncertainty comes from Vermeers own
omission of the identifying symbols common in painted portraits. There
are no clues planted in the form of background details or props. Much
of this could come from the fact that Girl was most likely not intended
as a portrait, but as a trochie: a form popular in Dutch painting at the
time, depicting the head of an individual solely for the sake of the

image, rather than to create a likeness of a specific subject. If this is

true, it would have been meant more as a still life of the human face,
designed to capture an emotion rather than a distinct identity. Its also
clear that Vermeers classical tendencies are at work. The subject is
intentionally simplified, idealized and stripped of characteristics that
would place it firmly within a specific time and place, in an attempt to
capture a representation of timeless beauty. Consequently, we are
left with a near-inhumanly lovely girl with no trace of a time or place.
But for all this, the unnamed Girl with the Pearl Earring strikes
the viewer as something much more significant than the inanimate
subject of a study of light on skin. What really draws in the audience
isnt Vermeers rendering of shadows in fabric, but the palpable sense
of life in the girls expression. Such specificity and depth of emotion
make her anything but generic. Her gaze is directed with bold
directness at the viewer, creating an immediate sense of connection, a
breaking of the fourth wall that demands active engagement from the
audience. The unusual poseback turned toward the background,
head curving over the shoulder, eyes directed down and to the side
implies that the viewer himself has attracted her attention, prompting
her to stop and look back. The fleeting nature of the image, the sense
of time frozen mid-step, makes the Girl not an object posed and
painted, but a living, moving creature of which the viewer has been
lucky to catch a glimpse.

In comparison to Vermeers highly detailed paintings of interiors,

Girl is decidedly free and loosely rendered. Highlights and shadows are
indicated with broad strokes, applied in thick layers over a dark
background. The contours of the face are more suggested than
outlined; lines are smooth and flowing. The highlight along the nose
blends into the one along the right cheek, and the forehead fades
uninterrupted into the brow bone. Considering the size and value of the
central pearl earring, one would assume it to be the focus of the work,
but is actually half-hidden in the shadow at the back of the girls neck
on one side, and only vaguely differentiated from the skin on the other.
The most clearly defined part of the painting is not the pearl, but the
girls eyes: wide and bright, with dark irises lined in black and
highlighted with a silvery gray. Their shine competes successfully with
that of the pearl, drawing the eye away from the earring and up to the
girls arresting expression, then down to the lips, where their
brightness is echoed in small dabs of white at the corners of her
mouth. This creates a triangle of focus in the center of her face, pulling
the viewer in.
The intensity of this expression is the key to Girl with a Pearl
Earrings widespread appeal. This is no vapid society girl, gazing
prettily into the distance. There is a legitimate sentiment behind those
gray eyes, though it is impossible to know exactly what that may be.
She is clearly about to say something, and yet she will never speak. Its

an unavoidable feature of humanity, this need to know what the

answer is. And when no answer comes, the only relief from this
unsatisfied curiosity is to create the solution, to supplement a fictional
truth in place of concrete fact. Were the Girl in the painting just
another generic face, she couldnt spark enough interest in her
audience to merit this need for an explanation. But as Vermeer has
shown her to us, in timeless costume against an empty black
background, she is at once without identity and disarmingly distinct.
Nothing hooks an audience like an unsolvable mystery, and Girl with a
Pearl Earring is a particularly beautiful example. So while the world
continues to seek out her identity, her charm lies in the fact that such
a question will most likely never be solved.
Where Girl with a Pearl Earring is atypically free and idealized,
Gericaults Portraits of the Insane devote an unconventional level of
detail to a subject traditionally sensationalized and dehumanized, or
ignored entirely. At the time of their creation, some time in the first few
decades of the nineteenth century, victims of mental illness were
generally thrown together under the banner of lunacyvessels of the
devil at worst, perverse curiosities at best. Given this tendency to see
the insane as little more than animals, mental patients would seem an
unlikely candidate for formal portraiture. This is what makes Woman
Addicted to Gambling and its brethren such remarkable pieces.

While the exact circumstances of their creation are unknown, it is

generally agreed that Gericault produced Portraits of the Insane at the
behest of a doctor in the emerging field of psychiatry. Gericault himself
was known to have suffered from psychological illness, thus putting
him in contact with such professionals and making him particularly fit
for the job. His respect for the subject is obvious in his handling of it:
while most images of the mentally ill at the time were either highly,
tragically romanticized (for the sake of art), or grotesquely
exaggerated in an attempt to externalize their symptoms (for medical
illustration), Gericaults paintings are honest and straight-forward, with
no attempt made to artificially indicate the sitters illness. The result is
a collection of moving portraits, not sensationalized but showing real
human beings under the weight of real human suffering. It is assumed
that the paintings were intended for illustrative medical purposes, as
examples in a book or as visual aids for lectures. However, Gericault
has captured the images with considerable artistic care, even though a
dispassionate clinical illustration would have achieved the desired
purpose. To see such expressive humanity in a place where humans
are meant to be studied as scientific specimens inevitably provokes an
emotional response from the audience, making it a true portrait of an
individual rather than just a textbook illustration.
Portrait of a Woman Addicted to Gambling is particularly striking,
as out of the five portraits it shows the least obvious signs of any

emotional disturbance. In the other works, there are tracessubtle,

but presentof mania, panic, and confusion in the eyes of the subject,
but Woman Addicted to Gambling contains no clear indication that the
central figure is committed to an asylum instead of an old woman who
has simply been worn down by the world. The background is dark and
featureless, showing no sign that it was posed for in an asylum. She
wears her own clothing, not the uniform or featureless shift associated
with those confined under care of the state. It is rendered in careful
detail, from the heavy folds of her coat to the specks and stains that
litter her head covering.
But the greatest detail is in the features of her face. Gericault
has mapped out every line in her forehead, every shadow in the
hollows where the skin hangs limply over the skull. The distinctive tilt
of her mouth and unevenness of her eyes are faithfully and
unapologetically displayed; even the hairline is laced with tiny
individual strands of white. There is no sense of idealization of the
subject in this piece. At the same time, it doesnt strike the viewer as
particularly grotesque or intentionally ugly, but as a respectful
acknowledgment of the womans unfortunate condition. This is an
expression of truth: not a beautiful truth, but a truth nonetheless, and
one that deserves to be told without being softened or sensationalized.
This womans existence as a real being outside the confines and

conventions of madness is a jarring reminder of how far from human

those in her condition are treated.

Both Girl with a Pearl Earring and Portrait of a Woman Addicted

to Gambling are subtly defiant. Here are two women known only to us
by their function: Girl as a pretty pedestal on which the pearl earring is
displayed, Woman as a representative of incurable madness. Yet both
paintings possess a living energy that demands the viewer
acknowledge the real people behind the titles. The effect is different, of
course, as is to be expected from two works so far apart in subject
matter. The realization of life in Girl with a Pearl Earring is tantalizing;
the viewer experiences the thrill of approaching a painting, expecting a
lovely, inanimate face, but is instead confronted by her intensely
personal gaze. Objects of beauty are thought of as passive, intended to
be enjoyed by the audience but not to ask for anything in return. The
Girl with a Pearl Earring, by virtue of her reactionary pose and inquiring
gaze, breaks this tradition by actively continuing a conversation begun
by the viewers first look. This exchange, once begun, is irresistible,
and the human impulse for conclusion drives the observer to pursue it
to an end thatthanks to holes in the paintings historynever
actually comes.
Unexpected humanity is the compelling force behind Woman
Addicted to Gambling, as well, but the response it elicits is decidedly

less pleasing. The label of Woman Addicted to Gambling is a

distancing device. Given an appropriately straightforward name, the
unpleasantness of whatever ailment she suffers from can be explained,
catalogued, and filed away safely out of sight. Mental illness is a
reminder of the fragility of the human mind, and so society is eager to
expel it from the ranks of normalcy. By denying the viewer any
prominent indication of the subjects supposed condition, Gericault
blocks the defensive impulse to reduce her to a generalized,
featureless other. Observers cant simply latch on to symptoms of
perceived inferiority and ignore the complex human underneath. On
top of forcing the audiences gaze to a ugly truth it would much rather
ignore, this casts a light on the societal desire to separate oneself from
misfortune at the expense of those suffering. It isnt a flattering
reflection, but it calls attention to a flaw in human compassion so
pervasive it has become invisible. To refuse engagement with the piece
would be to perpetuate the same alienating attitude that it so boldly
uncovers.
Girl With a Pearl Earring and Woman Addicted to Gambling defy
the default reaction to paintings addressing their subject matter. They
cant be neatly sorted out using cultural and societal expectation.
Understanding their complexities requires making a considerable
connection to the women within themand even then, definite
solutions elude capture. The impossibility of assigning a predetermined

significance to the paintings is what makes them significant in the first

place. The fact that they challenge expectation reveals a great deal
about just how firmly were attached to these concepts of identity. And
in withholding a clear-cut explanation, the force the viewer to engage
in the most significant interaction one can have with a painting:
delving in to this representational image in an attempt to get to know
the living soul within it.