The Best: Portrait of an Old Man in Red Chalk
“The BEST” series features writers considering what things “out there” make us think and feel. What elements in our culture still inspire us to live better? We seek to share what we find that might still be described as “the best that has been thought and said.” Click here to read about “The BEST” and to see the index of all columns in this series.
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Summary
Leonardo da Vinci’s Portrait of an Old Man in Red Chalk (c. 1510s, currently in the Royal Library of Turin) is unsettlingly alive. Rendered with minimal red chalk, the image seems to emerge from the paper upon which it was drawn (at 13.1×8.5 inches, only slightly larger than a typical page of computer paper). An elderly man turns slightly away from us, his head angled in three-quarter view, his gaze withdrawn, his features compressed by time and thought. Wrinkles furrow the brow, and cheeks sag under their own history. The face projects forward, resisting the flatness of the page.
In the early 1400s, the Italian architect Filippo Brunelleschi (1377–1446) introduced a process for rendering the recession of space, called linear perspective. In Brunelleschi’s technique, lines appear to converge at a single fixed point in the distance. This produces a convincing depiction of spatial depth on a two-dimensional surface. Leonardo made use of these innovations in revolutionizing the medieval portraiture that preceded him. Though his red chalk is modest, the illusion is profound. The head does not sit on the paper; it emerges from it. Subtle gradations of pressure and tone create planes that turn, recede, and advance. The forehead slopes backward, the cheekbones push forward, the jaw retreats. Light is implied rather than drawn, falling across the face as if from an unseen source beyond the page. One senses volume, weight, and resistance. The red chalk intensifies this effect. It warmly mimics flesh. The old man seems to breathe.
Why this is The BEST
Leonardo’s old man carries dignity in the full weight of his age: fatigue, loss, endurance, perhaps regret. The artist casts old age as determined wisdom and careful sensitivity. Renaissance art then, like much of modern culture now, struggled to find beauty in the later chapters of life. Youth is smooth, symmetrical, promising. Age is irregular, resistant, and often grotesque. Old Man in Red Chalk insists that such an attitude itself must mature. To truly “see” requires us to adjust our sense of value.
The three-dimensionality of the figure is not merely technical. It is moral. Leonardo gives his old man depth, mass, and presence. If, as is widely believed, this is no less than a self-portrait of the artist in the final years of his life, that multiplies those qualities. The drawing demands that we confront age not as decline alone, but as accomplishment. Every crease is earned. Every asymmetry records an experience. The old man demands our attention. He matters.
The Torah likewise teaches that human value is not exhausted by productivity, beauty, or novelty. “Do not cast me off in old age” (Psalms 71:9) is not a claim to usefulness, but an appeal to a lifelong relationship with Hashem. Leonardo’s art arrives at a similar insight. He shows that to see life fully, to “see life steady and whole” (to quote Rabbi Lichtenstein channeling Matthew Arnold), is to see the full arc of the person.
Chaim Strauchler, an associate editor of TRADITION, is rabbi of Cong. Rinat Yisrael in Teaneck.