Ginevra de’ Benci, Leonardo da Vinci; 1478

SINCE the Renaissance, human beings have become progressively more fascinated with the human face. With the advent of digital technology, we are now surrounded by faces, faces everywhere. Some people have their picture taken many times a week. By the time a child is three, he is already the subject of a vast archive of photos.

Do we know ourselves better because we see ourselves in photos more?

For that matter, do we know ourselves better by looking in the mirror? I’d say, some things we learn. But not enough. Not anywhere near enough.

The camera does most justice to the human face when used by a craftsman, who employs the mechanical to capture the non-mechanical. The portrait of the nineteenth century Archbishop of Westminster, Cardinal Henry Edward Manning, (below) was made by the famous London photographer Henry Rose Barraud. We see here the thing most worth getting at in a photograph: the inner life. Judging from what we know of Manning and his piercing insight, it is a brilliantly faithful portrait. (View it more closely here.) With the effects of light, Barraud gives a sculptural quality to the face, as if it was molded from bronze. We see age, wisdom and the power of conviction.

Leonardo da Vinci, in his famous portrait of the 15th-century Florentine aristocrat Ginevra de’ Benci, conveyed far more than an ordinary camera ever could. In her pale, downturned lips; her directed gaze, falling just short of a trance; her wide, marble-toned forehead, we see the mystery of personality.

Notice how Ginevra is not concerned with pleasing the viewer. She is not pandering to you. From way back then, when women were supposedly slaves, we find an independent and pensive being able to make profound judgements and to match virtue with intelligence.

Thousands of amateur photos cannot portray what one picture well done can. Today, in our world of Faceburg, many people ironically don’t have one decent picture of themselves, worthy to pass on to posterity, but do have thousands of photos. The human face is losing its human qualities from over-exposure.

Do we know ourselves better? I’d say no. As the greatest portraits tell us, it is not the surface that matters but the powers of reflection. We know ourselves best not by looking at ourselves in photos but by reflecting upon and painfully gazing into that which is better than we are.

Then we see the truth — the truth that Manning and Ginevra saw, the truth that the artists who portrayed them saw. And that is, we are not much.

Cardinal Henry Edward Manning

— Comments —

A reader writes:

That portrait is Ginevra “before the makeover.”  Imagine her today with nothing natural about skin and face:  she would have a spray tan, with makeup to fix and enhance.

Laura writes:

Manning would be kicked out of the New Church. He’s not joyful.

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