2nd part of post :
Sargent’s portrait of Madame X, which Wilson says this photograph is inspired from, created quite an uproar at the time. In fact, he had to change what to our contemporary eyes seems like an almost insignificant element to make it acceptable to the critics and public : Originally, one shoulder of Madame’s X’s dress had been pulled down. Apparently, the scandalous nature of this detail was not so much the idea that it exposed more flesh but that it was unseemly to appear to be half undressed or undressing, or redressing, as one chooses to interpret it. From what I have read, Madame X’s reputation was already rather compromised, and it just called attention to a fact the socialite or her husband would rather not highlight.
In Wilson’s portrait of Princess Caroline , her dress is irrelevant. It seems indeed rather shapeless, and in my opinion, emphasizes that she is now a middle-aged woman by the lack of emphasis on a waist, and the broad shoulders. The dress is all black (accurately reflecting Princess Caroline’s usual choice of color or lack thereof) and without definition. Yet, I see a wink in the direction of Sargent’s original portrait in the slit down her back, the equivalent of the shoulder down. To put it bluntly, it appears that Princess Caroline is not wearing a bra, that all she is wearing is that strict-looking, almost austere black dress. This would be the third ambiguity or ambivalence of the picture: two viewers, one in front of her,(the direction of her gaze), one behind her, explicitly defined as a voyeur as by the reference to the Hitchcock movie, a wedding ring that signals both her widowhood and her married state, and a stark-looking dress that belies its starkness by revealing the absence of an upper undergarment. What should one call that slit in the back ? It almost looks like a cut, a gash, a slash as by a knife. It is a ray of white in all that black. Is it another reference to her widowhood, her wound, her scar? Is it a sign of vulnerability, of exposure, (even she is not “covered” from the wounds of life), or is it a ray of hope, a sign of her sexuality, sensuality and rejuvenation renewed by her marriage?
The picture is notably stark. There are no props, as in Sargent’s portrait, no furniture, no feathers or fan in her hands, no drapery, nothing to complement or detract from the subject. And so Caroline stands alone, deprived of all symbols of power usually associated with royal status. But then, why would Caroline need them ? She is, and has been for the longest time, the epitome of real royalty, even though the royal status of the Principality of Monaco is often disputed or belittled. In an earlier official photograph by, I think, Karl Lagerfeld, when she was a young wife and mother, she wore a royal blue elaborately frilly long gown, a tiara with matching earrings, and looked out from the palace’s balcony alternatively to her kingdom as it were and the wide blue sea, surrounded by her exquisitely handsome and well-groomed husband and children. She had it all. Now, she stands alone. And yet, even though the angle from which she is photographed is different, the pose is unmistakenly hers, with that way of tilting her head up which so often is viewed as arrogance. Let’s say instead that this is a woman so aware of her power that all she needs is this signifier (her signature lilting up of her head) to show who she is: she is unequivocally confident in herself and her status, she stands like a queen, her pose held in a supremely controlled way. She stands imposingly and even dramatically tall, very still, and from the stillness emanates her force, in a kind of insolent magnificence. The photographer transforms one ordinary individual into a kind of mythical figure. She could have played in a Greek tragedy, Euripides’s Trojan women for example, the role of Andromache.