Colonel Impitt n.d.

Curator: Here we have "Colonel Impitt," a striking pencil and graphite portrait, authorship belonging to Samuel Cousins. The artwork resides here at the Art Institute of Chicago, its date remains unknown. Editor: My initial response is one of fragility; the ethereal, light application of graphite makes the figure almost spectral, fading into the paper. The composition directs us so deliberately to his face. Curator: The way the subject's image has been crafted holds a powerful echo. The military portrait, of course, often stood as a marker of power, a representation of civic duty. How does that play here? Editor: Indeed, but the almost unfinished nature pushes back against a sense of grandstanding authority. There's a subtlety in Cousins' layering of tones; notice the way light falls to carve the subject’s face and the intricate depiction of his military adornments – they act as surface that both conceals and reveals. Curator: You're touching on something essential, a sense of tension within the symbolic language. This could be considered against the backdrop of military portraiture during this era: it almost feels as though there are competing symbolic forces at play. Impitt's slightly unnerving gaze creates another level of ambiguity too. Is it authority, apprehension, or a little of both? Editor: Exactly! It avoids easy categorization and resides instead in this potent in-between space. The overall effect is that the portrait operates with the rigor and rationality implied in military garb, combined with the enigmatic quality only accessible via such restrained artistic style. Curator: It serves as an evocative mirror reflecting our own preconceived notions and assumptions toward class and authority. What do we read into a uniform? Editor: Looking at it more closely, it serves as a compelling example of a stripped down, bare, but poignant study of a military officer's psychological register rendered masterfully in line and shadow. The details are essential in reading this composition. Curator: An echo from another time, now reinterpreted with fresh eyes. Editor: Leaving us much to ponder still today about portraiture in general.