17. Churchill's Portrait

When Sir Winston Churchill, the great British prime minister, reached his eightieth birthday in November, 1954, he was presented with his portrait by a well-known modern artist, Graham Sutherland. The painting had been ordered and paid for by the members of Parliament, who wanted to honor the Grand Old Man of World War II.

Sir Winston and Lady Churchill were deeply moved by this mark of respect and affection. Neither of them, of course, allowed the donors to see how much they both disliked the portrait. "It makes me look stupid—which I am not!" protested Churchill in private. Publicly, he only remarked that it was "a fine example of modern art." His friends smiled; it was well known that Sir Winston didn't care for modern art.

Churchill was so unhappy about the portrait that finally his wife had it destroyed. Churchill died at ninety in January, 1965. Lady Churchill followed him in 1977. Shortly after her death, the public learned what had happened to Sutherland's painting, and a heated argument broke out. The painter was understandably sad. The artistic community, shocked and angry, claimed that the destruction of the picture had been a crime. Historians said that they regretted the disappearance of a historical document. All agreed that the Churchills didn't have the right to do what they had done.

Well—did they? A good part of the public felt that the subject (and owner) of a portrait had the right to get rid of it if it made him so unhappy. The question, however, has been raised many times before: who has the right to a work of art—the sitter, the owner, the donor, or the artist who created it? And when the painting is the portrait of a historical figure, should the right of posterity be considered, as the historians claimed?

Another question comes to mind: who is qualified to judge a portrait? Graham Sutherland had told Sir Winston that he would paint him "as he saw him". Churchill never had a chance to see the work in progress since the painter refused to show it to him. He found out only when he received his present that Sutherland had seen him as a heavy, sick, tired old man. Since he hated old age, he was naturally hurt and offended. But was the portrait a good one, as many (including the painter) said? Or was it bad and offensive as others (and the sitter) thought? Who is to judge? It is well known that we never see ourselves as others see us; but do we see ourselves better than they do?

None of these questions have been answered yet to everybody's satisfaction.