In such a case a three-quarter view, or even a full face would be wiser—and kinder.
Some people run away with the idea that portraiture is merely seeking out defects and exaggerations—but that is caricature.
We should look for the pleasing characteristics. We do not, it is true, wish to draw the 'pretty pretty' face—the chocolate-box style of beauty—but there is no reason against recording pleasant rather than unpleasant facts. It takes a very big man to rise above facial defects, and an Oliver Cromwell to wish to be painted 'warts and all.'
We will presume that a group of girls and boys are waiting primed ready to sketch portraits. And one has been selected, or a very good-naturedly volunteers, to sit as a model. Some one remarks, not very politely and a little despairingly, "There's absolutely nothing in Rachel that isn't just ordinary!"
Ordinary; what is 'ordinary'? 'Common, customary,' says the dictionary (among other things).
Is Rachel 'ordinary' compared with the rest?
Look swiftly from Rachel's lips to those of Patricia. Rachel's upper lip is 'ever so short' compared with Patricia's rather pouting mouth; and her eye—she has a fine-lidded eye, with clear, open pupil. John's eye is slightly hidden by his brow, and his iris is dark. And compare the three pairs of eyebrows. Rachel's extend thickly from the nose to the outer edge of the eye, Patricia's are thin and silky, and John's are queer little dabs of hair, one of which gives a humourous twist and expression to his face.
Expression, ah!—now we are getting to the root of this portrait business. . . .
Let us break off for a moment.
When we have seen a portrait by a famous artist—or the reproduction of one—what lingers most clearly in our minds? Does not the expression haunt or memories?
To quote a few of the greatest portraits in the world: Think of the gentle austerity of Titian's Doctor, the shy grace of Velasquez's Baby Princess, the demure questioning
