This engraving after a self-portrait presents Hyacinthe Rigaud, a court painter best known for his portraits of King Louis XIV, with the tools of his trade. He holds his pen against his hand and a sketchbook overflowing with loose papers while standing in front of his easel. The way that he scrutinizes the viewer, with his brow furrowed, makes it seem as if he is preparing to make a portrait of us, holding his pen to his hand as if pausing for a moment while thinking about another feature. 

The stone window that frames the artist may have been an invention of the engraver’s. It is a common convention in engraved portraits, like Drevet’s portrait of Adrienne Lecouvreur. As in that work, the window and wall, nicked and cracked, create a trompe l’oeil, making it seem as if Rigaud really exists in that physical space as his sumptuous drapery falls out of the frame, and yet reminding the viewer that art is only an illusion.