Alfred Edward Emslie (1848–1918), A Sonata of Beethoven, 1901. Oil on canvas, 157 x 117 cm, Guildhall Art Gallery & The Roman Amphitheatre, London
In Emslie’s painting, the mirrors are blank. They give back nothing, as if the room itself has no interest in holding these two people together. She loses herself in Beethoven’s sonata, he hides behind his newspaper, and what looks like closeness turns out to be nothing of the sort. The empty glass on the table doesn’t reflect either of them. It just sits there, doing what the rest of the painting does so well: showing you that two people can share a room and still be entirely alone.