The Unfinished
Portrait
by Harold Martin
One of the things the trained eye of an artist was reading was that life
story in his face, and the trained hand of an artist was setting down in
line and pigment what the eye saw and the heart understood.
One
of the word's rare words of art, destined to become richer in meaning
and deeper in significance as generations pass, is THE UNFINISHED
PORTRAIT of Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Complete in all but its
final details, this painting stands in The Little White House at Warm
Springs, Georgia, where on the afternoon of April 12, 1945, the
President died.
No brush stroke has been added, no line has been taken away, since that
moment when the artist sat transfixed with paintbrush poised, as no more
than ten feet away from her, he reached a shaking hand to his forehead,
and slumped in his chair, stricken by a massive cerebral hemorrhage.
The The eye of an artist sees into the human heart, and a portrait that
is truly and honestly done tells all that a man is, and, was, in
life. The portrait of the President which Elizabeth Shoumatoff was
painting at the moment of his passing is a true and honest
portrait. The strain of the terrible years of depression and war
is graphically etched in the lined face.
Clearly, here is a man who has dared much, has endured much, has
suffered much, and who is now weary. But in the light of the clear
blue eyes the great intelligence still shines through, and in the set of
the firm jaw there is determination, and in the still jaunty tilt of the
head, great confidence. There is warm compassion there, but no
weakness, and no fear.
There is symbolism, perhaps, in the fact that the portrait was
unfinished, so was the life of the man portrayed. Behind him lay
great achievements; ahead of him lay great decisions still to
come. In the rubble of ruined Berlin the war in Europe was
grinding to a close. The war with Japan was still aflame in the
Pacific, but in some secret, hidden spot, the bomb that would end it,
built at his order, was nearly ready to shed its strange and terrible
light upon the world.
The old enemies he had fought in depression times were not yet fully
conquered, yet the battle plans he had drawn up so long before to combat
hunger and disease and ignorance at home, were slowly winning that great
fight too.
So he stood, like a tired but confident warrior, on the threshold of
victory, and the artist captured that moment in color and line and
preserved it for history. Her work, like his, was almost
done. All the important things were there, the eyes, the mouth,
the shape of the head, the set of the shoulders, the color of the skin
which, in the few minutes before his death, had strangely turned from an
ashen pallor to a semblance of ruddy health.
All that remained for her to complete a great portrait were a few more
brush strokes. All that remained for him, to round out a great and
noble career, were a few more years. The Creator, in His infinite
wisdom, ended life and portrait together.
Out of her memories of how he looked that day, Elizabeth Shoumatoff
painted another, THE UNFINISHED PORTRAIT. And out of their faith
in him, perhaps, the people who believed in him, in years to come will
add the final brush strokes to the great canvas that was his life, will
finish the fight against tyranny, against hunger, against fear and
intolerance, which he began.
_____________
THE UNFINISHED PORTRAIT is displayed
at FDR's Little White House, Roosevelt Warm Springs Institute for
Rehabilitation, 9AM-5PM EST/EDT, 7 days a week. Phone
706-655-5870. |