The portrait of Mary Miller, alongside her husband Edward Kanens, that hangs in the Saybrook Dining Hall has always pleased me. It is everything that the other dining hall portraits are not—naturalistic, relaxed, homey. I think it embodies the aim of a portrait, which I believe is to capture the spirit of a person. Merriam Webster’s definition is perfectly suitable to me: “a pictorial representation of a person usually showing the face”. A portrait is nothing but a depiction, a likeness—however, a good portrait does much more than this.

I’m unable to find much information about this portrait, except that it was painted in 2009. It seems to be made of oil or acrylic paint, and the artist is anonymous. Notably, it is horizontal rather than vertical, probably measuring about four feet by three feet. Miller sits beside her husband in what appears to be a cozy wood-paneled living room. A third subject is present in the portrait—namely, the couple’s cat, Rainbow, who playfully nuzzles the corner of book that rests open in Miller’s hands. Miller is caught mid-smile, her hand in midair as if about to turn the page of her book. Her stylish red glasses reflect white, suggesting another light source opposite her. She wears a white blazer and a floral cream-colored scarf. Her husband, Edward Kanens, sits slightly apart from her, hands folded in his lap, leaning his body leftward as if craning to make it into the portrait. His Saybrook quarter-zip sports his college pride, but he has an unassuming air to him, as if he’s just happy to be depicted. Maybe it’s in his contented half-smile, or in his swaying, naturalistic body language. On the windowsill behind the two subjects are a portrait of the members of Saybrook College, as well as what appears to be a small decorative sculpture. The window advertises a view of the Saybrook courtyard, a black bird in midflight. The paint in the portrait is applied rather visibly in comparison to the portraits that flank it. It’s especially prominent on the body of the cat, textured fur embodied by deft raked strokes. I’m reminded of the cat in Manet’s Young Woman in Spanish Costume, a virtuoisic flurry of thick lines.

This portrait engages with a long lineage of Saybrook College pride without appearing elitist or stuffy. The hints of legacy—the portrait-with-a-portrait, the courtyard, the sweater—are comforting symbols of belonging rather than tokens of exclusivity. The work situates its subjects in a naturalistic setting, arguing that the college it represents is a place one should feel at home in.