Whatever is in the background of a portrait – the small details that may at first go unnoticed but soon congregate into sharp focus – can, if well chosen, add brilliantly to the viewer’s perception of an individual. In Derry Moore’s adroit colour print of Alan Bennett, photographed in 1992, the chosen background is full of noisy variety, it talks to you. Moore has positioned Bennett in front of a gilded classical mirror, whose surface is almost entirely covered up with cards and photos. These range in subject from a young WH Auden, a cobbled Paris street, a provincial playhouse, a boy looking rather like the young Picasso holding a white dog, a theatre programme, a wrought iron staircase to assorted snaps of Bennett himself with relations or friends. In Bennett’s solid, unmoving face, we can recognise his trademark outward persona, the “wryly amused northern stoic”. But near his head, above and around the unchanging blond hairline, the collage of pictures suggests to perfection the writer’s voice talking and wondering, selecting and sifting, a mind fully alive and curious about the world.
Novelist Rose Tremain, about a writer’s portrait she admires, in “Still Lives”, Arts, Review Saturday Guardian 26.06.10