The lady in Bartholomeus van der Helst’s portrait may be unknown now, but she appears to have been a woman of some status. Standing out against a severe, plain black background, her clothes announce her wealth and status – and little else. Although she appears modest and unassuming her gaze is direct and steady.
With no attempt at flattery, van der Helst painted her wispy hair hanging unfashionably straight under a long lace cap, both accentuating her high forehead and the length of her face. She holds her delicately decorated stomacher out towards us – the embroidery incorporates silver thread and pearl beads, making this uncomfortable, restraining garment appear sparkling and almost frivolous. She also presents her fan, its bow – like the one at her breast – made partly of silver thread; the fan would have been hand painted, perhaps with flowers or a scene from a Greek myth.
The lady in Bartholomeus van der Helst’s portrait may be unknown now, but she appears to have been a woman of some status. Standing out against a severe, plain black background, her clothes announce this status, her wealth – and little else. Although she appears modest and unassuming, her gaze is direct and steady.
With no attempt at flattery, van der Helst painted her wispy hair hanging unfashionably straight under a long lace cap, accentuating her high forehead and the length of her face. He highlights her deep-set brown eyes with a flick of white paint, echoed in the glistening pearl earrings hanging above her collar.
The ring on her finger looks like gold. It’s on the fourth finger of her left hand, but that doesn't prove she’s married – it simply suggests she’s rich. (It would appear that, at the time, Dutch women could wear a wedding ring on any finger of either hand, or not at all, according to choice.) The black satin of her gown was fashionable and costly, the handmade lace prohibitively expensive – especially lace of such quality and quantity (there are three tiers to her wide collar). In this, van der Helst’s lady bears a resemblance to the sitter in Frans Hals’s Portrait of a Woman with a Fan, whose costume is remarkably similar, and is also an obvious sign of status and wealth.
The lady in van der Helst’s portrait holds her delicately decorated stomacher out towards us, for our admiration perhaps. The embroidery incorporates silver thread and pearl beads, making this uncomfortable, restraining garment appear sparkling and almost frivolous. She also presents her fan, its bow – like the one at her breast – made partly of silver thread; the fan would have been hand painted, perhaps with flowers or a scene from a Greek myth. With a little smile, the woman in Hals’s portrait daintily holds out a gold chain and an ostrich-feather fan; another, in Portrait of a Woman (Marie Larp?), displays the complex and opulent gold embroidery on her stomacher by framing it with her fingers. The anonymous lady by van der Helst seems much less anxious to impress.
Painted around the same time, all three portraits seem to be as much about the cost and opulence of the clothes as about the women portrayed. Two of them seem quite content to make a feature of their wealth and sense of fashion, but van der Helst’s lady seems disengaged from her gestures of display.
