A Pierrot and a Harlequin: artists' children also disguised themselves

We have all been children and all of us at least once in our lives have dressed up at Carnival as we liked. I always loved dressing up as a princess or fairy, because even as a child I had a romantic, dreamy, fairy tale-loving soul, as I do now, and years later my soul has not changed (only one year I decided to transform myself into a penguin, I don’t even remember why, maybe to try to revolutionize my usual appearance as a sweet little girl with long, loose hair with a pointy hat on her head, an ampoule dress with puffy sleeves and a magic wand in her hands, but then from the following year my “fairy tale” nature came back to win). Deciding what to dress up as for Carnival can depend on our inclinations, our desires, our passions, but also on the fashions of the moment: when I was a child, for example, in addition to princesses, Indians, zorros, musketeers and pirates, the fashion of “punk,” the disguise considered to be for ’big kids,’ let’s say eight to nine years old and up, had broken out, and so here we were sporting ripped jeans and denim jackets on which one couldn’t count the symbols and inscriptions, phosphorescent locks of hair and glitter galore. Or it’s down to the creativity of the parents: not more than a few days ago I happened to see at a masked parade in Viareggio, a town on the Versilia coast that is very famous for its Carnival and from which I live a few kilometers away, an entire family dressed as... gin and tonic, that is, father and mother dressed as gin and tonic water and the son as a slice of lemon, and from the child’s face I think he would have wanted to disguise himself as anything, perhaps his favorite superhero, except a slice of citrus.

It amuses me to imagine, when looking at Pierre-Auguste Renoir ’s White Pierrot and Pablo Picasso’s Paulo dressed as Harlequin , that both artists invited the two children depicted, their own children respectively, to pose for them by placing a chair in the center of the scene, leaving them free to use it as they pleased. The impression both images give is one that today could be comparable to a real photo shoot made as a souvenir of that specific Carnival. And I like to think that the one who is most comfortable in his disguise is Jean, the future director, second son of the Impressionist painter, because of the expression on his face and the nonchalance he shows in posing for his father. Indeed, he sits on a wooden chair, with a relaxed but at the same time elegant attitude. Her body is turned slightly three-quarters, and she holds one arm resting on the back of the chair while the opposite hand rests on her leg. The centerpiece of the painting, made between 1901 and 1902 and preserved at the Detroit Institute of Art, is the child’s face: he has a gentle expression and his gaze is turned slightly to the side, as if absorbed in his own thoughts. The delicate blush of the cheeks and the barely half-closed lips suggest a sense of innocence and serenity, and the delicacy of his features is further emphasized by the soft, diffuse light that floods the entire composition. In particular, the light is reflected, with a skillful blending of light and pearly tones, on the white Pierrot costume rendered by the painter with great skill: a wide white tunic that falls in soft folds down his body with large buttons of the same fabric and wide pants of the same color. Completing the disguise is a fluffy red tulle collar around the neck that breaks up the monochrome of the dress and adds a touch of chromatic warmth and a cream-colored pointed hat. The face, however, is not painted white and does not feature the typical black tear as traditional mask iconography dictates.

The figure of Pierrot emerges in the foreground with all its whiteness from the background rendered in dark, indefinite tones and with a soft brushstroke that creates a blurred, almost ethereal effect; the colors are not stark but blend harmoniously together. It is precisely this blending of brushstrokes that suggests an intimate, everyday environment, a typically familiar atmosphere of calm and quiet.

Contrary to what one might think, Pierrot’s mask does not originate in France: it originated in the Italian Commedia dell’arte under the name Pedrolino, but it is nevertheless in France that the character takes on the characteristics that we still know today in terms of both his appearance and his character. From being a naive servant in the service of more cunning characters, Pierrot became known in the 19th century for his melancholy and sentimental nature thanks to the mime Jean-Gaspard Debureau. A delicate, poetic character with an everlasting sense of sadness who represents one of the most evocative figures of the Commedia dell’Arte, he is also often likened to the figure of the melancholy and misunderstood artist. Renoir in his painting does not emphasize this sadness, but rather emphasizes its contemplative features. Without dramatic excess, he depicts his son in a relaxed, almost dreamy pose, in keeping with his production that immerses the viewer in the harmony of everyday life.

In contrast, Pablo Picasso’s eldest son Paulo, born of the marriage between the artist and dancer Olga Khokhlova, appears different in the 1924 painting now in the Musée Picasso in Paris, which depicts him dressed as Harlequin, the famous character from the Commedia dell’Art cunning and prankster, always ready to devise stratagems in his favor and able to juggle his way out of difficult situations with ease and agility (in fact, he often performs somersaults and acrobatic leaps)

Unlike Jean in Pierrot’s clothes, who sat comfortably on the chair in the center of the composition, here Paulo is standing, leaning with one elbow on the chair, which is upholstered, black, and more elegant than the one in Renoir’s painting. His expression is serious, his gaze is directed directly at the viewer. Despite the flamboyant costume he wears, his face appears calm and slightly melancholy, in contrast to the vibrant energy typical of the Harlequin figure.

The costume is typical of Harlequin, characterized by a lozenge pattern in shades of yellow and blue separated by marked black lines-a color combination that gives the work a strong visual impact. Around the neck and cuffs, a wide collar and voluminous white cuffs with a ruffled effect add a touch of lightness and sophistication in contrast to the fabric of the dress, which appears to be of heavy cloth. On his head is a plain, unadorned black hat, from which emerges reddish-brown hair combed in graceful bangs. Paulo’s face, with its pale complexion, lit on slightly flushed cheeks, and delicate features, appears almost distant: it seems as if the child, although dressed in one of the most exuberant masks there is, does not fully participate in his disguise, but remains immersed in his thoughts. And the way he holds his hands adds to the sense of stillness and reflection. Particularly noticeable is precisely this juxtaposition between the apparent cheerfulness of the dress and the composure of the child’s expression.

One of the aspects of the painting to highlight is the relationship between the latter and the background. While Paulo and his costume are rendered with attention to detail, the rest of the composition appears deliberately unfinished due to the lack of treatment of the background, which is left rough, both for the child’s feet and for parts of the chair barely hinted at with sketches and light strokes. A man’s foot, not referable to any person, also pops up at one foot of the chair.

The painting, part of a series of portraits of harlequins that Picasso made between 1923 and 1924, is a significant example of the artist’s interest in the theme of childhood and the theatrical world.

In many of his works, his identity as an artist is intertwined with that of the theatrical character of Harlequin. The latter becomes his melancholy alter ego, symbolizing his frailties and sense of loneliness, an aspect that emerges from 1901, the year of the beginning of his Blue Period. In this context, the figure of Harlequin is embodied by the artist’s son. At the same time, Picasso suggests the complexity of his interiority, depicting the child in a costume that reflects his multiplicity, just like the rhombuses that compose him. It is not only a child portrait, but implicitly turns into a self-portrait of the artist, who identifies with both the famous Commedia dell’Arte character and his own son. It is a disguised reflection on the multiplicity of being.

These two portraits, Renoir’s White Pierrot and Picasso’s Paulo dressed as Harlequin, offer an intimate, everyday look at the relationship between artists and their children. Between delicate brushstrokes and vibrant colors, the children become figures from the Commedia dell’Arte, evoking the fine line between reality and fiction. Thus art transforms the ephemeral moment of disguise into an image of complex depth.

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