Captain Manyat (from McGuire Scrapbook) 1804 - 1868

Curator: Ah, this drawing, seemingly simple, speaks volumes. It's Shepard Alonzo Mount's "Captain Manyat," a pencil portrait dating between 1804 and 1868. It's currently housed right here at the Met. Editor: Immediately, I’m struck by the…reserve. He looks almost trapped, stiff collar and tighter lips, peering at something just out of frame, something perhaps he isn't too fond of? Curator: Interesting! Mount, of course, worked primarily as a genre painter. Portraits like these, often dashed off in pencil, were likely commissions or perhaps done as favors. It offers us a very different side of his work. Editor: It’s such a fleeting medium too, pencil. Makes me think about the ephemerality of identity, especially in this case, “Captain Manyat," a name nearly lost to time. What’s the story behind the captain, I wonder? Curator: That's what's compelling! We can project our own narrative onto him. His dress suggests someone of stature. Look at the careful cross-hatching around his coat, conveying its texture. He's carefully presented himself, hasn't he? Editor: Right, there's that curated public face, but even through the careful draftsmanship, I still sense something hidden, like the angle of the drawing implies the viewer knows something he is avoiding? Curator: Perhaps that says more about us than him. As we try to interpret the lives of figures from the past. There is always going to be some missing information. Editor: Absolutely! It also challenges this modern viewer to confront our desire for these clean lines, trying to interpret everything down to simple form. I mean, isn't that what we're doing right here, right now? Curator: A delightful observation. And this little sketch serves as a lovely reminder of the stories held within faces, rendered in light and shadow with just a stick of graphite. Editor: And just how much can be implied from such minimal gestures! Now if only Capt. Manyat could offer a rejoinder…