WHO Am I?

Until I found myself near the National Portrait Gallery in London, with an hour to kill, I had never really liked portraiture: all those entitled aristocrats looking down their noses. However, after that unexpected sixty minutes, I was a convert. I even ended up buying a print.

The paintings in the Who am I? exhibition (curated by Andrew Clay) employ works from the gallery’s permanent collection, with the exception of a loaned portrait of Sir Alan Ayckbourn. As expected, most of the walls were covered with those smug aristocrats, but there were other stories being told.

We have come to expect that these paintings will not only have an individual on show, but also representations of their wealth and position in society. The landscapes in the back ground will often be their estates. Closer to the foreground the painter will depict an animal looking upwards with soulful eyes at the admired master or mistress.

So it is with the portrait of James Stuart (after van Dyck). A casual hand on the coat of his greyhound elicits that look of devotion that seems to be necessary for the subject’s self-esteem. A uniform hangs in the background, suggesting that here we have a man of action as well as a passive subject.

All of this stands in contrast to J. Brown’s Portrait of a Woman. She has the fine clothes – a silk dress with elegant lace trimmings; a ruby brooch at her throat – but her vulnerability emerges through her mouth and eyes. Here is a person who has struggled with adversity and is now doubting herself. Despite her robust features, she looks fragile.

And it is self-doubt that is the keynote for the modern portraits of Tom Laughton (Bruce Turner) and Sir Alan (John Bratby).

Benefactor and entrepreneur Tom, brother of actor Charles Laughton, glances down at a book. We are past the age of arrogance with subjects staring straight at the spectator, now the subject’s gaze is averted. Yes, this is his portrait, but he seems discomfited by the attention. Very different from most of the other images in the room.

John Bratby’s vision of Sir Alan is of a reflective, even melancholy, man who is comfortable with the emblems of experience. The jowly chin and the receding hairline would surely have been unacceptable to a sitter of previous centuries.

Who am I? Not only questions identity, it provides a history lesson in how we have seen ourselves.