Even when Met was packed like a sardine can, visitors at Frick Museum can still walk leisurely with enough space and time to ponder. A lot of rooms inside the Frick Mansion are still kept as they were when Henry Frick was alive. Knowing that all these extraordinary artworks were amassed through one man’s pocket and placed inside the magnificent building brings to the amateur collectors both awe and sour reminder of the heights to which the combination of fortune and passion can rise.

Of all the portrait paintings, one impressed me the most: Portrait of Sir Thomas More by Hans Holbein, the younger.

Holbein’s sitters always enjoy relative flat light which allows their features revealed with extreme delicacy. If one has just passed works by Rembrandt, Holbein’s works would look tremendously accurate yet lack of dominant power. (How can one pass Rembrandt without stopping and holding his breath?) But that is who Holbein, the younger was: the supreme portrait master without bravura, flourish, or facile virtuosity. He only pleases the eyes of those who seek nothing of exaggeration, who would not be beguiled by affectations and mannerisms.

In the portrait of Sir Thomas More, one can instantly sense the extreme subtlety and accuracy of the modeling of the head. But the more time he can spare studying it, the more he can conceive. A close look at the clothes will reveal how masterful Holbein’s handling of detailed accents was. The color of the velvet does not differ too much from that of the fur collar, but the texture of each material is dazzling true that one could almost feel the as silky of the velvet as fuzzy soft of the fur. But if one stands five feet away, nothing can distract him from seeing the character. All the accessories, stressed and related perfectly with one another, merge with the whole drawing, thus making the figure at first glance formidable.

An appeal to human beings is just one of the essentials of a masterpiece of portraiture. If Holbein’s careful selection of essentials which add almost a narrative sense of nobility and eminence is too forceful for the first impression, then his understanding of the beauty of human countenance and personality portrayed the truth of the sitter. True, one may feel the need to bend down his knees in front of the portrait, but NOT because of More’s rank or statute, but of his paramount deep thinking.

Here is the amazing incongruity that has been layered down through Holbein’s skill, intelligence, and heart. On the one hand, More looks almost unapproachable. Holbein chose the three-quarter view and let More stare ahead without any hint of communicating. Thus viewers can sense the seriousness of the moment without the chance to disturb the contemplation of the thinker. On the other hand, Holbein showed the humanity side of the sitter with almost cruel accuracy of physical aging. Holbein’s observation was full of homely, tender feelings. He didn’t hesitate in registering the wrinkles and wears in More’s face with such delicacy. More’s unshaven face indicates he was not aware or did not care about his immortality image, nor did the painter want to flatter his sitter. In fact, it is this sincere peculiarity that captured the unique quality of the character who preaches the world of harmony, order, and discipline. More is not immortal: he was tired, and worn at the moment, but nevertheless kept focused and concerned. Holbein, understanding and penetrating the strong mind of the intellectual, painted with equal mind-forcefulness and imbued More with radiating humane glow.

At the moment when he was to be beheaded, More said “I die … the King’s good servant, but God’s first.” I stood there long enough and tried to decipher his mind in vain. More’s eyes possess such tremendous fortitude and determination that nothing could bend or stop. In this painting, Holbein reached his peak with austerity and reticence that have not been surpassed. To some extent, Holbein painted not only his personality but his tragic fate.