Self-Portrait 1847

Editor: So, here we have a self-portrait by Dante Gabriel Rossetti, created in 1847 using pencil. I'm immediately struck by how intensely he's staring; it's like he's trying to see right through you! What do you see when you look at this work? Curator: He's certainly got that Romantic intensity, doesn't he? What jumps out for me is the almost tentative touch of the pencil, and yet, it manages to convey such a firm sense of self. It feels less like a confident declaration and more like a whispered question: "Is this *really* me?" Think about it: this is Rossetti before the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood really takes off. It’s almost as if he’s using this drawing to define himself, or even… conjure himself into being. Editor: That's interesting. It didn't strike me as tentative exactly, more…searching. Do you think the choice of pencil contributes to that feeling? Maybe something like oil paint would have felt more definitive? Curator: Absolutely. Pencil is so immediate, so easily erased or altered. It has this wonderful, ephemeral quality, perfect for capturing a fleeting moment, a shifting identity. Oil paints, by comparison, feel much more solid and…well, *permanent*. What does the word ephemeral mean to you? Does that capture what's going on for the artist here? Editor: Yeah, I think ephemeral feels spot-on. Like he's catching a glimpse of himself, rather than making a grand statement. I never would have considered how the choice of material really shapes that perception. Curator: Exactly! It's the whisper, not the shout, that stays with you. This portrait makes you wonder who Rossetti *wanted* to be, and maybe even who he feared he might become. Editor: I’m going to look at portraits totally differently now! It’s about more than just the face; it's about the medium, the era, and all the questions the artist is wrestling with. Curator: It is a kind of art alchemy, right? Rossetti turns simple materials into an enduring puzzle.