The window behind a figure seen from the back

First we see a back. The woman depicted by Fuseli sits at an angle, one arm stretched towards the right, the other hand resting on the seat. Her face remains largely beyond our reach. This position creates an unusual relationship: the figure occupies almost all the space and seems very close, while keeping to herself what she is looking at. The window announced in the title thus becomes a direction rather than a landscape offered to the viewer.

The sheet held at the National Gallery of Art dates from 1802. The museum describes it as a lithograph made with pen and lithographic ink. It belongs to the series entitled Specimens of Polyautography. We must therefore look at it as a printed image, even if the lines retain something of a drawing’s liveliness. The artist’s work takes a form capable of circulation, and the representation of a tightly framed scene enters a broader technical experiment.

Looking at the work — The neck and upper back form a pale area at the centre of the fabrics. The hairstyle gathers the hair into a precise mass. Around it, the sleeves, curtain and cushions multiply marks and patterns. The dress spreads widely across the bottom of the image. This abundance does not entirely cover the figure: on the contrary, it allows us to gauge how her body turns and supports itself within an interior.

The outstretched arm establishes an almost horizontal line, while the movement of the clothing descends diagonally. The viewer can follow these two directions in succession. One leads towards the right edge and the opening; the other returns towards the seat and the printed surface. The posture thus organises a back-and-forth between a barely accessible outside and a very present interior. We do not need to know a story to feel this division of attention.

The black lines perform several functions. A closely packed sequence produces a shadow; a few crossed marks give texture; a more isolated outline defines a hand or a fold. The paper’s white remains active between these interventions. The image depends on this alternation of density and reserve. Seen quickly, it may appear descriptive. Observed closely, it reveals a construction in which the fabric’s thickness and the body’s orientation rest on differences of rhythm.

The window readily invites psychological interpretation. Is she waiting for someone? Withdrawing from a conversation? The document does not answer these questions, and the title announces no specific event. We can recognise a figure turned towards an opening without attributing definite waiting or melancholy to her. This restraint gives the pose its strength. The person depicted retains a measure of inaccessibility that the proximity of her body is not enough to remove.

The seat and cushions establish a space of comfort, but also play a role in the composition. Their volumes support the figure and extend the clothing’s directions. The setting is not a list of accessories added after the subject. It makes the posture readable. A gaze concentrating only on the head would miss this network of supports, curves and surfaces through which the whole gives the impression of a body settled in place yet still mobile.

The museum has presented this sheet in several exhibitions devoted to lithography and British art. It can therefore be viewed through two complementary histories: that of images devised by a Swiss artist established in England, and that of a printing process. These frameworks should not replace observation. They enrich it by reminding us that the singularity of a pose can reach us through a technique, an edition and the preservation of a particular impression.

At the end, the face remains turned away and the arm stays open towards the window. The outside gaze obtains no further revelation. It has nevertheless travelled through an image where attention is distributed between skin, hair, patterns and folds. Fuseli succeeds in giving presence without requiring the customary frontal encounter of portraiture. The scene continues to hold us in the place it has granted us: very close to the figure, but behind her, on the threshold of what she sees.