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There was an incomparable charm of femininity in her, something forever young ... despite her English upbringing, despite her Spanish and Polish blood, it was the Indian soul of her great-grandmother that she retained. And that is why her talent was so honest, new, interesting, her bizarre landscapes so her own, seen with a fresh, untrained vision, with a clear eye that does not know the involuntary falsehoods of civilization...

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Maria Krzymuska (Theresita) [translated from the Polish]

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Drawn in 1901, this large portrait is one of a small few surviving works by the British artist, Winifred Cooper, and the sole extant example from her early career. The young sitter is shown in a white Victorian blouse and dark jacket with a large, ruffled collar. Through delicate layers of red pastel, the boy casts an engaging glance back towards the viewer, his lips hinting at a smile, somewhere between mischievousness and timidity.

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Cooper was raised in Cheltenham but was drawn by the allure of Belle Epoque Paris and enrolled at the innovative Académie Julian at the turn of the century. In Paris Cooper entered into a fleeting relationship with the renowned Irish landscapist, Paul Henry, before integrating herself within the Polish artistic community. Through her Polish connections Cooper met Jerzy Zakrzewski and the pair soon became engaged, moving to Zakrzewski’s hometown of Warsaw in 1906. Tragically Zakrzewski died that same year and Cooper was left alone in her new surroundings. She gave up her work in the studio of Konrad Krzyżanowski, and her membership at the Zachęta and returned to England.

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Even whilst living and studying in Paris Cooper began to exhibit in London and for the decade following her return she exhibited regularly at the Royal Academy, Albert Hall, and Earl’s Court. Ill at ease with British life however she decided to journey to Russia at the dawn of the war. Cooper spent three years living between peasant villages and happened to observe first-hand the outbreak of the Bolshevik revolution in 1917. These experiences were meticulously recorded in her diaries and sketchbooks, which were published in The Studio and then exhibited at the Goupil Gallery on her return to London in 1919.

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In 1923 Cooper departed England for a final time, returning to Poland where she settled in the vibrant bohemian centre of Zakopane. Cooper quickly became a central figure in town’s cultural community, befriending Polish luminaries Jan Kasprowicz, Józef “Pimek” Fedorowicz and Stanisław “Witkacy” Witkiewicz. The polymathic Witkacy, who was a celebrated artist, critic, and philosopher, produced a number of portraits of Cooper during the course of their friendship [fig. 1]. Cooper similarly drew portraits of Witkacy and his circle, including the Portrait of a Man [fig. 2] which echoes the vibrant expressionist style of Witkacy’s one-man painting factory, the ‘S.I Witkiewicz Portrait Painting Company’. The company’s tongue-in-cheek manifesto asserted that “the customer must always be satisfied”, and that “any sort of criticism on the part of the customer is absolutely ruled out”. It seems difficult to believe that Cooper would have been satisfied with her somewhat demonic portrait at the Jagiellonian Library [fig. 3], however the pair’s friendship evidently survived the slight. Under Witkacy’s direction Cooper became a local star, acting in his formist theatre productions to supplement her own work as an artist, translator, and poet.

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Two additional portraits from Cooper’s time in Zakopane survive, depicting figures from within her cultural circle. One of these works, Portrait of Jerzy Gawlinski, is held in the Tatra Museum [fig. 4], whilst the other, Portrait of Jozef Fedorowicz, Pimka, was offered at Desa Unicum in 2020 [fig. 5]. More reserved in their use of colour, these last two works portray a sense of figurative realism that was side-lined during Cooper’s Russian years, nodding back towards her life drawing experience in Paris, around the time when the portrait John was produced. Both sitters in the two later works wear sober expressions and are seated within minimalist or abstracted settings. In contrast with these more solemn expressions, John, drawn some 20 years earlier, is imbued with the curiosity of youth. The difference in expression seems reflective of Cooper’s long years of dislocation, war and loss.