The Imperial Portrait Project Begins
Following the conclusion of court garden parties, Empress Dowager Cixi found herself with more leisure time. This extended availability allowed her to devote greater attention to personal projects, including the commissioning of formal portraits. The Dowager Empress decided to have her honorific titles inscribed directly onto these paintings—a complex undertaking given the elaborate nature of Qing dynasty imperial nomenclature.
Cixi’s full honorific title, translating to “Xiao Qin Ci Xi Duan You Kang Yi Zhao Yu Zhuang Cheng Shou Gong Qin Xian Chong Xi Pei Tian Xing Sheng Xian Huang Hou,” comprised sixteen carefully chosen characters praising her virtues and accomplishments. The logistical challenge of incorporating this lengthy inscription—along with the required official and personal seals—became an artistic puzzle. Court officials presented various calligraphic styles for her consideration, while decisions about seal placement and color (eventually settling on one white seal with red characters and another red seal with white characters) required meticulous deliberation.
Artistic Challenges and Creative Solutions
The portrait project encountered unexpected complications. The artist—likely Katharine Carl, an American painter who created Cixi’s famous 1903 portrait—had initially composed the painting without accounting for the extensive textual additions. This forced last-minute adjustments that compromised the original composition, much to the artist’s frustration. The solution involved temporarily setting aside the painting for court officials to handle the inscriptions before final artistic touches could be applied.
Recognizing these challenges, Cixi proposed additional portrait sessions. Liberated from the formal constraints of the first official portrait, subsequent sittings adopted a remarkably different atmosphere. The Dowager Empress abandoned her heavy court regalia in favor of everyday attire—a blue embroidered robe with simple jasmine flower hair ornaments and a jade butterfly hairpin. This naturalistic approach revealed a different dimension of imperial presentation: intimate rather than ceremonial, personal rather than political.
The Imperial Household as Artistic Patronage
The portrait sessions offer rare insight into Cixi’s engagement with art and artists. While Western painters like Carl received special access, the Qing court maintained an entire department of Chinese court painters—typically holding third-rank official positions—who documented imperial ceremonies, created decorative artworks, and produced theatrical backdrops. These artists followed strict protocols, never approaching the Empress directly and communicating through eunuch intermediaries.
Carl’s observations reveal fascinating contrasts between Eastern and Western artistic methods. Chinese court painters worked collaboratively, with master artists creating initial compositions that apprentices would then replicate with creative variations. This differed markedly from Western individualistic traditions. The imperial art workshops maintained rigorous standards, with only the finest works selected for preservation in the imperial collection.
Cultural Exchange in the Forbidden City
Unexpected moments of cross-cultural interaction punctuated the portrait sessions. When Cixi presented Carl with an unusual white chrysanthemum variety and challenged her to name it, the artist’s suggestion of “Old Man of the Mountains” (based on the flower’s resemblance to white hair) delighted the Empress. Such informal exchanges revealed Cixi’s playful intellectual curiosity beyond her formidable political persona.
The imperial household became an unlikely stage for cultural performance when Cixi requested demonstrations of Western music and dance in the Renshou Hall. The sight of European-style pianos—including a newly imported grand piano—amid traditional Chinese decor symbolized the complex cultural intersections of late Qing China. As Cixi watched the Derling sisters perform waltzes to piano accompaniment, her amused commentary on differing cultural attitudes toward dance highlighted growing awareness of global customs.
The Political Dimensions of Personal Portraiture
Beneath the surface of artistic activity lay significant political undercurrents. Cixi’s willingness to be portrayed by a foreign artist—and her praise for Carl’s courage in serving a court many Westerners considered dangerous following the Boxer Rebellion—reflected deliberate efforts to reshape her international image. The resulting portraits would eventually circulate globally, offering a carefully managed vision of Qing sovereignty during a period of intense foreign pressure.
The Dowager Empress’s commentary on gender norms proved particularly revealing. Her remark that Carl—were she male—would merit the highest honors (including the prestigious yellow riding jacket) for her bravery, followed by praise that the artist’s courage surpassed that of many men, suggested complex views on capability and gender roles in a changing world.
Legacy of an Imperial Artistic Vision
Cixi’s portrait project represents more than personal vanity—it encapsulates a pivotal moment when traditional Chinese imperial representation intersected with global artistic currents. The surviving paintings preserve not just an image of the last great Qing ruler, but a sophisticated exercise in cross-cultural diplomacy and self-presentation.
The informal moments—whether playing with the Empress’s Pekingese dogs (“Bi Yan Suan Ni” and “Hai Long Er”) that were included in portraits, or the humorous “peacock feather” incident where the Empress jokingly granted honors—humanize a figure often remembered solely for political maneuvering. These artistic encounters reveal Cixi as a patron, a participant, and ultimately, a subject negotiating her legacy during the final years of imperial China.
Through the lens of art and cultural exchange, we gain fresh perspective on the Forbidden City’s final golden age—a world where chrysanthemums inspired poetry, piano concertos echoed through throne rooms, and imperial portraits became sites of both tradition and transformation. The resulting artworks stand as testaments to the complex interplay of power, personality, and cultural encounter in China’s late imperial period.