Self-portrait by Pauline Boty (c. 1958)

By Alannah Mylechreest, Second Year English and German

Last July I was wandering through the recently reopened National Portrait Gallery when I came across a self-portrait by Pauline Boty. Among the many portraits on display, her piece particularly stood out to me due to her use of the stained-glass medium. It was beautiful in its simplicity, dominated by primary and secondary colours - reds, greens, yellows, blues, and oranges. A recurring motif of flowers also adorned the sides of the portrait.

My familiarity with stained glass art would have led me to attribute this work to the Middle Ages, when the artform was at its height. However, the portrait was in fact created circa 1958, whilst Boty was starting out at the Royal College of Art on a scholarship to study this particular art form. Stained-glass art also evokes religious associations for me and for many others; it can often be found gracing the windows of impressive cathedrals or more modest chapels.

The bob hairstyle, the staunch expression, and the manner in which she holds the flowers, being reminiscent of someone wielding a sword, brings to mind Joan of Arc, particularly of the artistic depictions of her created by Albert Lynch in 1903 or Paul Antoine de la Boulaye in 1909. One may ponder whether Boty envisions herself as one of the Saints, namely Joan of Arc, who is portrayed in this art style? One may also wonder whether this type of depiction is a kind of self-deification, which some may see as vain, even ranging on blasphemous?

However, I would argue that Boty’s artwork is far from vain. Through drawing attention to the piece of glass that cuts across her face, you can gain an insight into her sense of self consciousness. Personally, this is a representation of Boty being uncertain of her own appearance, unsure of what her ‘whole’ self really looks like. Of course, it is impossible to know for certain whether Boty was aiming to achieve this through her use of art, or whether in fact this was merely the product of how the pieces just happened to fit together. But that is the beauty of art in itself - the endless possibilities for personal analysis.

As I made my way further into the gallery, there was a room with a fascinating display specifically concerned with female self-portraits, with the intention of challenging traditional views of women in art. To quote a sign in the display:

“By choosing to represent themselves looking out at us, women have countered the idea of a passive feminine sensibility. Often, their self-portraits disrupt past and contemporary representations of women made by male artists, for the pleasure of other men”.

 I would argue Boty’s serious expression and androgynous bob is a part of this disruption created by female self-portraits. Her artwork doesn’t seem to be created for the pleasure of other men, or even perhaps for the pleasure of anyone - it is instead a fascinating exploration of an interesting medium.

 This piece is one of Boty’s earlier artworks. After graduating from the Royal College of Art in 1961, she went on to become a co-founder, as well as the only female member, of the British Pop art movement, along with other artists like Peter Blake and David Hockney. The movement was centred around modernity and breaking boundaries, a far cry from the traditional use of stained glass that Boty’s art education was focused on. Her later pieces were often collages, largely feminist and political, occasionally humorous (her final artwork, BUM (1966) is exactly what it says on the tin). We can see this later interest of hers, in the collage form, start to develop in her self-portrait through its use of different pieces of glass.

 An emblem of the Swinging Sixties, Boty was an intriguing figure who lived an exciting life. She hosted Bob Dylan in London in the early 60s, had a brief acting career - including a twenty second uncredited appearance in Lewis Gilbert’s film Alfie (1966), and as a student she was part of an ‘Anti-Ugly Action’ group which protested the British architecture of the time. Unfortunately, it was also a short-lived life for Boty, passing away from cancer aged only 28 in 1966, five months after the birth of her daughter.

 Soon after her death Boty’s artwork was put away in a barn on her brother’s farm and kept there until the 1990s when it was rediscovered. Even today there are pieces of hers that remain missing. Despite her significant involvement in the Pop Art movement, in those thirty years after her death Boty was almost at risk of being forgotten. This prompts the question: how many other artists, particularly women, have been forgotten because we don’t have access to their artwork? I would imagine countless.