Art

Drawing and portraiture was used in early ethnographies as a method of observation and recording. They were since superseded by the camera, discarded with the assumption that a supposedly objective and accurate record of reality, achieved with the efficient click of a button, was superior to slowness, close observation and subjective aesthetic expression. But drawing is now experiencing a resurgence, not only in ethnography (see e.g. Causey, 2017; Taussig, 2011) but also in the social sciences more broadly (Heath et al., 2018; Lawrence-Lightfoot and Davis, 2002) as well as in medicine (see e.g. Gilbert, 2020’s use of “clinical portraiture”), in a range of methodological applications that demand greater or lesser skill with the medium. The objectives of drawing as a research tool are less to do with capturing or creating aesthetic beauty or displaying artistic skill (neither of which are the intentions behind the pictures here). Instead, the emphasis is on drawing as a generative method of knowledge creation.

Through my journey of creating the portraits of polarising figures, I developed three such generative aspects of portraiture as a method. There are others – such as the creation of shared intimate experiences with live sitters (Gilbert, 2020), and enabling understanding of a space or community through interaction with by-passers in urban sketching (Heath et al., 2018) – that are less relevant to the series below. Here I focus on the qualities of looking, sketching and imagining.

Looking

The first thing you learn in a drawing class is not to draw but to look. Looking is a skill that demands your full concentration, rigorous and systematic attention to detail, and that continues to reveal surprises over extended periods of time: somehow you expect to see it all at first glance; you don’t. It is rare for us to spend any length of time observing someone, especially so closely that you come to know intimate features and notice details that our quick visual scans and polite diverting of our eyes normally miss. In the period during which I painted Nigel Farage (from a picture, rest assured), it is an upsetting fact that I spent more time observing his face than that of my husband. Being a scholar of social performance, close attention to the nonverbal cues in Farage’s face let me know it intimately, not just in its architecture but also in its plasticity and the way it presents itself to the world. Close observation opens up a new form of perception that we do not otherwise practice. This can lead the researcher into what Heath and colleagues describe as “new spaces for creative thinking” (2018, p. 723) by activating the imagination. 

Sketchiness

Drawing and painting have a sketchy quality that contrasts with the inscriptional character of photography: they offer different forms of representation. Drawing and painting involve conscious selectivity in what is represented, beyond the compositional choices made when we take a photograph. While engaging in subtle, complex description, the portraitist also searches for and contributes to a narrative of the subject. This involves construction and selective representation: choosing themes, strategically deciding on points of focus and emphasis, leaving things out. This, along with the temporary but full attention to detail detached from the bigger picture, can generate insights through engagement close-up with selected parts-of-the-whole and their role in the central story. The object being sketched is seen less for its likeness and more for its dormant meaning (Heath et al., 2018, p. 720) by both portraitist and audience. Portraits can also communicate additional information to a photograph, such as atmosphere, mood and imagined presences. In The NFT of Dorian Grump, I constructed a narrative surrounding Trump’s release of a series of NFTs (non-fungible tokens) in 2023 that he termed ‘digital baseball cards’ and that depicted him as various iconic American figures – the superhero, the astronaut, the cowboy. The artistic value of the NFTs was perhaps negligible, but they were excellent examples of populist self-presentation, which had long been a theme in my research. Trump’s digital self-indulgence became the central narrative of a painting in which several contrasting forms of sketchiness created a conversation between the natural, the artistic and the artful.

Imagining

In portraiture, imagination is given form through aesthetic elements that involve expression, not just representation, and the portraitist plays an active role in constructing the story that they listen for (as opposed to listen to) (Lawrence-Lightfoot and Davis, 2002, p. 12). The self of the artist is here a tool in the generation of knowledge. Leaning into, rather than attempting to eliminate, the influence of human imagination allows us to access, on the one hand, the political alternatives to the status quo – what Olufemi calls “the otherwise” (2021) – and, on the other, instances of the unknowable, such as those so beautifully conjured up by Toni Morrison in her novel Beloved. The two What if… portraits play with the construction of alternative realities. Emphases in line and shade subtly shift mood, posture and expression sideways to let us consider what the subjects are not and what if they were. The imagined near-doublegangers of Trump and Johnson may be more or less desirable than the real things but nevertheless tell us something about the persons being portrayed and our current political moment.

Portraiture sets a slow pace for an interview and creates a more informal atmosphere than semi-structured interviews. It enables portraitist and participant to establish rapport in a very intimate atmosphere. The situation therefore invites open-ended interviewing, partly because this is the best way of making use of the opportunity for relaxed conversation and rapport and the extra time afforded by the portraiture practice and partly because the combination of drawing and interviewing creates practical restraints when the artist/researcher needs to juggle notes and drawing materials.  

The method invites participants to focus on their own lived experience (Lawrence-Lighfoot, 2002) and to consider how others see them (Gilbert, 2020) and thereby to reflect on their own positionality in relation to events being discussed. It also enables close observation of the participant’s interpersonal performance, such as facial gestures, as part of the drawing practice. This level of observation is captured during the interview in the drawing and can be reflected upon afterwards. 

An additional opportunity for interviewing occurs when the participant is presented with the finished portrait. The portraitist can then invite reactions and get the participant's reflections on how they are seen by others, their identity and the emotional mood or atmosphere of a drawing. Emotional reactions are common in such situations, which can elicit responses that an ordinary interview situation could not. This occasion is thereby also an opportunity for the portraitist to check understanding. The portraitist should focus on inviting reactions that are less to do with the skills of portraiture and more with how well the representation fits with how the participant sees themselves, and how they feel about being represented.