If a picture is worth a thousand words, then how many musical notes does it take to convey the powerful provocation of a given image? Far less, I imagine... Well, you might not call me an aficionado of the majority of his compositions (although certain pieces are quite moving), but I'm absolutely besotted by this portrait of Franz Liszt, painted by Henri Lehmann in 1839.It happened by chance encounter one sunny afternoon a dozen years ago, at the Musée Carnavalet in Paris. I can't tell you much about my visit other than the fact that, in a tall-ceilinged room flooded with natural light, this canvas stopped me in my tracks. Long rays of sun mimicked and illuminated the original lighting of the scene. The painting, well, it glowed...
Liszt was a handsome-enough fellow, known to make ladies swoon, a virtuoso sporting a checkered romantic history. His face may have been his passport, but his power was in his hands. You can see how Lehmann captured that essence: the confident-yet-not-quite-insouciant posture, the unusual ring on his index finger, those puissant and perfectly formed digits.
Words fail, but his music still speaks volumes. And so does this portrait, with its nuances and innuendos indelibly etched in my mind.
To crack open the lid on Lisztomania, start with this NYT article.
He used perhaps a few more notes than he needed, exhibitionist and all that. But hey, go big or stay home! Push that envelope! Leap over that line in the sand!
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