Art Throb #22: 'Portrait of Doge Leonardo Loredan' (1501-1504) by Giovanni Bellini (c.1430-1516)

Giovanni Bellini (c.1430-1516), Portrait of Doge Leonardo Loredan (1501-1504)

Oil on panel, 61.5 x 45 cm,

National Gallery, London

Even before I knew I was interested in art enough to study for a Masters in Art History, there had been times when I'd experienced quite profound emotional responses to certain artworks. One example was the Venus de Milo: situated at the end of a long corridor in the Louvre she is visible in the distance, and I walked up to her holding in a sob.

This is the latest of my art crushes to reduce me to Wuthering Heights. I don't know when I first became aware of it but when I found myself in London last weekend for an art fix, I made it my business to seek it out at the National Gallery. Like the Venus de Milo, I was aware of its presence from a distance. Even without knowing where to look it somehow seemed to call me. Situated in a small room it appeared to throw light out into the air around it, illuminating the space in front so that I could see it out of the corner of my eye as I entered the room. Shimmering in its gold frame, there is something three-dimensional about it. It is luminous: the sky, his face, those clothes – all have radiance.

But then, he – the Doge – is the divinely-sanctioned, elected head of the state of Venice, the personification of La Serenissima. As such he is presented here as at once ethereal and solidly human. Placed in an elevated position with the pupil-blue of the Venetian waters and the sky behind him, he also stands behind a ledge or a frame, inside yet outside, as if in Heaven. This impossibility is part of the ambiguity of the painting as a whole. As the Venetian breezes blow through him, with light reflecting from the water onto the surface of his robes and on his face, the doge exudes an attitude of gentle authority. Yet there is steel beneath, implied in his indirect gaze and the slight shadow on the left side of his face. As the public face of Venice, this is a man to be respected, but also feared. Representing him in his official vestments, ceremonial garments of silk damask and gold threads, Bellini makes the most of the opportunity to demonstrate his virtuosity in rendering textures. Tenderly and delicately represented, they seem as if they are fashioned from light rather than cloth. They also have symbolic significance: that horn-shaped ducal cap ("corno"), reminiscent of a Phrygian cap, is a symbol of liberty.

Painted in the style of a sculpted bust, this painting has the solidity of sculpture, presenting the doge as a man of substance, capable of tenderness and mercy, experienced – as evidenced in the lines in his face – and wise. It is a portrait that does both the subject and its creator great justice (Bellini signs the portrait using the Latin form of his name, IOANNES BELLINUS, on a piece of paper painted on to the ledge). Born in Venice into one of the greatest of all Italian art dynasties (his father Jacopo and brother Gentile are too renowned and esteemed), Giovanni Bellini was the official portrait artist for the doges of the city from 1474 until his death.

According to Wikipedia, this portrait of Leonardo Loredan was looted from Venice when Napoleon conquered the city, and was bought by William Beckford for thirteen guineas (£13. 13 s). At least he did the decent thing by selling it to the National Gallery in 1844 for £630, where it can be enjoyed by all.