Fayette artist’s Washington painting an exact replica of the original
Patrick Daugherty, an artist of scope and consequence, has struck again. His copy of a portrait of George Washington by the renowned Charles Willson Peale was placed the other day on a wall at the Fayette County courthouse.
Daugherty’s reproduction of the Peale masterpiece hangs on the other side of Courtroom 1 from a copy of a portrait of General Marquis de LaFayette purchased for the county in 1901 by H.C. Frick.
Frick spied the original of LaFayette at Versailles, the French palace. More than 100 years later, the faithfully-executed copy delivers a powerful blow to those who think of Fayette County as an ill-begotten backwash, a no-account smudge on the map.
Daugherty hopes his re-creation of the Peale portrait will speak in similar tones to future generations: the fact is there are people in Fayette County in the year 2017 who love and respect art and beauty, to whom the epitaph “Fayette-nam” is not only odious and vile, but misbegotten.
Frick made a hefty portion of his fortune in Fayette County. He seems, in retrospect, to have admired the place.
Daugherty chooses to live here when he might have fled to places where art flourishes and where the market in art is capable of delivering riches to artists like himself. The fact that Daugherty has carved out a singular successful artistic career while domiciled here is one of the small wonders of the age.
Back to the Washington painting. The original was executed in 1772 at the Washington estate Mt. Vernon. It depicts Washington as a colonel of Virginia militia in the French and Indian War.
In other words, it shows Washington as he might have appeared as the leader of colonial troops serving alongside British redcoats at Fort Necessity in the 1750s.
He was then in his early 20s. When he sat for Peale in the spring of 1772, Washington was 40 years old with a widening midsection. His face is full and soft. It appears he is capable of facing down another Mt. Vernon feast; as for the mighty British army and empire, no way.
This is unfair on two accounts. The year was 1772, not 1776. The Revolution, though incubating, was four years in the future. The portrait depicts Washington before he was Washington, before he became His Excellence, the Father of his Country, the first president of the United States. In short, before fame and legend washed away his blemishes, his flaws, his frailties.
Second, Washington was stronger than he appears. Peale subsequently told the story of Washington tossing a heavy spear far beyond what younger men like himself, playing on the Mt. Vernon lawn, were capable of doing.
At 6-2, Washington towered over most of his contemporaries. One of the premier horsemen of the day, he was heavily muscled. He was a specimen.
Peale spent two weeks at Mt. Vernon. It was Washington’s first ever sitting. He confided to his diary that he was in a “sullen” and “grave … mood”, as well as occasionally sleepy during the sitting, so much so that Peale would be “hard put … in describing to the World the manner of man I am.”
During the course of his own work on Washington, which stretched to 233 hours on the painting part alone, Daugherty was both intrigued and charmed by the fact that Washington’s military vest sported one unbuttoned button. He supposes it was deliberate on Washington’s part; a member in excellent standing of the Virginia landed aristocracy, Washington was hoping to appeal to the common folks, Daugherty believes.
The first of seven Washington portraits rendered by Peale over the years, the original hangs in Lee Chapel on the campus of Washington and Lee University in Lexington, Virginia. Daugherty went to see it. He photographed the painting, which is under glass, from various angles and in minute detail.
Daugherty’s work is not “in the spirit of.” It’s an exact reproduction. Peale’s interpretation was not advisory; it was mandatory. As he stood back and viewed the finished product, Daugherty said the painting itself seemed to return to Peale.
“You know about degrees of separation, don’t you?” Patrick Daugherty asked. “As far as I could figure, I was separated from Washington by only Peale.” Pretty cool.
Richard Robbins lives in Uniontown and is the author of two books — Grand Salute: Stories of the World War II Generation and Our People. He can be reached at dick.l.robbins@gmail.com.