This year’s Forbes list serves as a reminder of how a woman’s position in the world depends on her choice of mate, something that’s easy to forget in 2010.
"The list’s entry on Michelle Obama is accompanied by her formal portrait by Joyce N. Boghosian, released by the White House a month after the inauguration in 2009. I had barely glanced at it before.
Seeing it again with Forbes’ declaration that the First Lady is the most powerful woman in the world, I became conscious of echoes of the now famous — once infamous — portrait by John Singer Sargent, “Portrait of Madame X” (Madame Pierre Gautreau, 1883-84). Both women are wearing black dresses, both are posed in a contrapposto stance with one hand on a round table. The similarities of the two portraits, however, make the differences between them even more striking, even discounting the busy background of the White House’s Blue Room.
The table in Sargent’s painting is empty and dark; the table in the White House portrait holds a huge bouquet of Casablanca lilies and white tulips. It may be a coincidence, but in the language of flowers the bouquet has an appropriate message. The Casablanca lilies mean “celebration” and the white tulips suggest “worthiness.”"
In Sargent’s painting, Madame X’s face is in profile; Michelle Obama faces forward and her gaze meets the viewers. Madame X is not smiling; Michelle Obama has a full smile. Madame X clutches the back of the table, thumb on the table top; Michelle Obama rests the tips of four fingers on the white table top, with her thumb grazing the edge of the table. Madame X stands just beyond the widest part of the table so that although she is not entirely behind it, the table stands in the foreground between her and the viewer, making her more remote; Michelle Obama stands a few inches away from the table about the same distance beyond its widest point as Madame X is in her portrait. As the First Lady reaches out to rest her hand on the table’s surface, it is almost as though she’s touching the table to make a physical connection with something. The fingers of the left hand of Madame X are curled and hold fabric. Michelle Obama’s right arm falls at her side, her fingers in a slight curve.
But in the context of power, the image of Michelle Obama in the official portrait presents, like that of Madame X, a mixed message. Michelle Obama’s head is not at all tilted; moreover, her gaze is direct connects with the viewer. In contrast, her left hand rests on the table, apparently tentative as it connects with something solid, which suggests vulnerability. Her right arm is at her side, seemingly not quite at rest, as though she’s about to raise it to reach out.
What, if anything does this pose mean without some inside knowledge into the conversation between the subject and the photographer? Without that knowledge the buzz has been about the First Lady’s wristwatch (supposedly a Cartier tank), pearls, and sleeveless black dress (Michael Kors), hairstyle, and her manicure, all of which can be deconstructed — and have, even to the shaping of her eyebrows. Her choice of sleeveless dresses in winter received lots of press early in the President’s term.
It’s difficult for me to imagine that a person as sophisticated as Michelle Obama would not have wanted some say about her pose; surely she would have been conscious of all the subtleties of body language within the context of an official photograph. Perhaps even the gap between the dress and her shoulders was a conscious decision as part of a carefully constructed persona, something to make the female viewer want to protect her rather than feel threatened.
The First Lady certainly would not have wanted to project to viewers of the portrait rage of any sort, and certainly not feminist rage, which would be certain to alienate more than half the population. If she had felt any anger over the attribution of power being a function of her being married, it’s better that it be kept out of sight — much as her wedding ring is in this photograph.
Inspired by a Forbes list of the Most Powerful Women, a meditation on female power that doesn't really take off until the comparison between a state photograph of the First Lady and Sargent's painting Madame X. Even there, I wished she had pushed a little harder, said a little more. The juxtaposition is tantalizing....
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