01/06/2025
For this portrait, Alice Neel didn’t ask her son, Hartley, to put on a happy face. She painted him as he was: exhausted and vulnerable.
It’s clear that Alice Neel’s 26-year-old son, Hartley, was preoccupied with his thoughts as he sat before his mother, a pioneering painter who redefined 20th-century American portraiture.
But Neel was never interested in depicting people’s most flattering moments. Hartley (1966) lays bare the harsh reality of her son’s circumstances as he trudged through medical school while the Vietnam War raged on.
Neel didn’t tell her son to smile, or to put on a dressier outfit, or to correct his slouched posture in the armchair. For her, asserting Hartley’s dignity meant capturing his true state of mind.
No matter whom Neel painted—her family, famous friends like Andy Warhol, blue-collar laborers, or her own aging body in the nude—she rendered her subjects with the same unrelenting honesty, in her signature emotive, blue-tinged brushwork.
Despite her distinctive approach, Neel went relatively unrecognized for most of her artistic journey, as emerging movements like abstract expressionism were more in vogue than portraiture. The art world finally began paying attention to her work in her 60s, during the rise of second-wave feminism and a renewed interest in realist representation.
But no matter how her career ebbed and flowed, she would always return to Hartley, whom she painted “many hundreds” of times.
Out of her love for her child and her commitment to her artistic vision, Neel painted Hartley as she truly saw him: imperfect.
In an age of edited photos and curated feeds, what might we learn from Neel’s raw, unvarnished representations of her son? And during a time of year when there may be pressure to perform cheeriness, what might it mean to allow ourselves and one another to simply feel what we feel, regardless of whether it looks picture-perfect?