Imagine for a moment that you’ve been commissioned to paint a portrait of Eusebius Sophronius Hieronymus (“Please, call me Jerome”) in his study, which he uses as a home office.

Here’s a little bit of biographical information to help you capture the essence of this legendary scholar. He is an erudite humanist who can read and write in three ancient languages: Latin, Greek, and Hebrew. He is the first person to translate the Bible’s Old and New Testaments into Latin, thus providing the source material for almost all future translations.

His correspondence with other philosophers — particularly his pen-pal friend Augustine of Hippo — influences the way we define democracy today.

Oh, and he spent two years in the desert searching for inner peace and his household pet is a lion.

It’s complicated

For centuries artists relied on easy-to-decipher poses, props, and backgrounds to describe an individual’s role in society. Jerome’s portrait is tricky, though, because he was born in the fourth century. Who really knows what he looked like? Or what his workspace looked like?

As it happens, a lot of people have tried to portray the influential philosopher, including a talented artist from Sicily with a flair for razor-sharp detail.

Antonello da Messina placed Jerome in a cathedral-like setting to shine a spotlight on his role as a leading theologian. Perched in the doorway is a peacock that symbolizes everlasting life, a concept deeply rooted in Jerome’s research and writing.

To my eye, the free-standing desk looks surprisingly modern — like kit furniture for which some assembly was required. Beautifully bound books were placed on the shelves by the artist to remind us that Jerome was an inspiration to Renaissance scholars centuries later.

In the background, the four-pane window overlooks a verdant view fit for a humanist who was also a Catholic priest: two women stroll along the river, a pair of lovers idle away the afternoon in a rowboat, a flock of sheep follow their shepherd.

Meanwhile, in the shadows of the colonnade, a lion watches over his master.

I must say, this home office looks remarkably neat for a writer with a pet lion. Jerome even removes his shoes before climbing up the three steps.

Antonello’s painting is beautifully detailed…

…but his composition is more symbolic than realistic, more fifteenth century than fourth century, more Europe than the Holy Land.

An artist from nearby Naples named Niccolò Antonio Colantonio portrayed Jerome in a far more realistic home office, one with a makeshift bulletin board, an abundance of bulky books in disarray, and a half-dozen “notes to self” tossed indiscriminately on the floor.

The red cardinal’s hat in the foreground signifies Jerome’s status as a Doctor of the Catholic Church, even though the position of cardinal did not exist during his lifetime. The hourglass on his cluttered desk reminds Jerome — and us — that time passes all too quickly. Behind his chair a mouse blithely nibbles on a piece of cheese.

Legend has it Jerome was teaching at a Bethlehem monastery when a lion came limping into the classroom. Everyone fled except the teacher, who saw the animal was in pain. Jerome examined the lion’s foot and extracted a large thorn. From that day on, the beast never left his side.

In Colantonio’s painting, the lion surveys us while we survey the lion. It’s a clever ploy. The lion holds our attention with its staggering proximity.

Could a photograph be as compelling as a great painted portrait?

With the invention of the Kodak camera in 1888, photography became a truly popular pastime. Could it also become an art form?

In 1890 Alfred Stieglitz moved to New York City determined to prove that a photographic portrait is just as capable of artistic expression as a great painted portrait.

But is it? A photograph is faster, more accurate, and less expensive than a painted portrait (though not always). But is it as persuasive? As definitive? Is there a qualitative difference between paintings by Antonello da Messina and Rembrandt on the one hand, and photos by Yousuf Karsh and Annie Leibovitz on the other?

Maybe that’s the wrong question. In the 21st century, do we still think a person’s multi-faceted individuality can be captured from a single viewpoint in one place? Or will multimedia replace the single-image portrait?

I asked White House photographer David Valdez for his perspective —

Several photographers I know say still photography is dead, but I disagree. People look at social media and multimedia for a few seconds and then those images are gone. A great single image lasts forever. Remember the photo of a very young John Kennedy saluting his father’s casket? The photo of a naked John Lennon hugging Yoko Ono? The photo of a young man bravely standing in front of a column of tanks in Tiananmen Square?

Great painted and photographic portraits will always be part of our society, but I do think multimedia will add to the official portrait.

Who will become the next great portraitist? It’s anyone’s guess.

David Valdez, director of the George H. W. Bush White House Photo Office, 2022