Portrait of Paulus Verschuur by Frans Hals

Frans Hals · 1643-01-01

This is Frans Hals's portrait of Paulus Verschuur, painted in 1643 and now at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. What you see is a confident, alert burgher in a wide-brimmed hat. What you don't see is the private cost of making it.

Hold on his eyes. Hals built that alertness with a few swift strokes, leaving the paint unblended. The left hand breaks the silhouette; the dangling glove is almost sketchy. Hals was painting faster than anyone in Haarlem, and it shows in every loose mark on the coat and collar.

1643 was a dark year for Hals. He was around sixty, living in Haarlem, and had lost his wife, his financial security, and, over time, seven of his children. The city had to supply him with coal to survive the winter. Yet this same year, he painted one of his most poised portraits.

The portrait business in Golden Age Holland didn't stop for personal grief. A wealthy sitter like Verschuur wanted posterity, not pathos. Hals gave him exactly that: a man who looks like nothing could touch him.

Details

He looks like a man in full command of his world.

Frans Hals painted him in 1643. A wealthy Rotterdam burgher.

Look at the brushwork. Unblended. Almost impatient.

Hals was known for speed. He had to be. He was nearly sixty.

By this year, seven of his children had died before reaching adulthood.

Transcript

He looks like a man in full command of his world. Frans Hals painted him in 1643. A wealthy Rotterdam burgher. Look at the brushwork. Unblended. Almost impatient. Hals was known for speed. He had to be. He was nearly sixty. By this year, seven of his children had died before reaching adulthood. His wife died. He was bankrupt. The city gave him charity coal. And still he painted men like this: alive, composed, fully present.