When you search for Catherine the Great pictures, you’re usually met with a wall of oil paintings featuring a woman who looks like she never blinked or felt a breeze. It’s all heavy ermine robes and diamonds the size of goose eggs. But honestly, if you look closer, these images weren’t just "art." They were the 18th-century equivalent of a heavily filtered, high-budget PR campaign.
Catherine wasn't even Russian. She was a minor German princess named Sophie who showed up in St. Petersburg with a suitcase and a lot of ambition. She knew that to keep a throne she basically stole from her husband, she had to look the part. Every portrait was a calculated move.
The Propaganda Behind the Paint
Let’s talk about the most famous Catherine the Great pictures you’ve probably seen in history books. There’s one by Dmitry Levitzky where she’s standing in the Temple of Justice. She’s burning poppies on an altar. Sounds a bit intense, right?
Basically, the poppies symbolized her sacrificing her own rest and peace for the good of Russia. It’s total branding. At her feet, there are law books and an eagle. She wanted the world to see her as the "Legislatress"—the wise, enlightened ruler who cared about the rule of law, even while she was expanding the empire through some pretty brutal wars.
Vigilius Eriksen, a Danish painter, was another one of her go-to guys. He painted her in three different ways right after her coup in 1762.
- As a mourner for the previous Empress (to show she was the "rightful" successor).
- In a military uniform on horseback (to show she had the army's back).
- In full coronation regalia (to show she was officially the boss).
It’s kinda brilliant. She used these pictures to bridge the gap between being a "usurper" and being a "mother of the motherland."
Why Her "Real Face" Is So Hard to Find
Most artists back then were basically human Facetune. If they painted the Empress with a double chin or tired eyes, they probably wouldn't get paid—or worse. Alexander Roslin, a Swedish painter, actually got into a bit of trouble for this. He painted her in 1777, and she hated it. She said he made her look like a "Swedish cook."
You see, Catherine was very aware of her flaws. She had a sharp nose and, as she got older, she definitely filled out. But in the Catherine the Great pictures produced by Fyodor Rokotov, she always looks ethereal and soft. Rokotov had this "sfumato" style—sort of blurry and smoky—that made her look like she was glowing from within.
She preferred that version. Who wouldn't?
The "Russian Minerva" Aesthetic
She loved being compared to Minerva, the Roman goddess of wisdom and war. You’ll see this theme over and over. Sometimes she’s wearing a laurel wreath instead of a crown. It was her way of saying, "I’m not just a queen because of a bloodline; I’m a queen because I’m smart enough to be one."
The Reality Check
If you look at the sketches done by people who weren't trying to suck up to her, or the more "honest" miniatures, you see a different person. She had light-grey eyes that people described as "sly" or "piercing." She had a famous "stereotyped smile"—a polite, fixed expression she used at court functions to look approachable while she was probably calculating her next move.
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She spent about 13% of the national income on her palaces and art collection. That’s why we have so many Catherine the Great pictures today. She founded the Hermitage Museum because she was "greedy" for art, as she once joked in a letter to a friend.
Spotting the Real Catherine
If you want to find the "real" her in all those galleries, look for the details that weren't part of the official script:
- The Order of St. Vladimir: Look for a red and black ribbon. She created this order herself to reward civil merit. It’s her personal stamp on the empire.
- The Hands: Some artists, like Borovikovsky, painted her later in life walking in the park at Tsarskoye Selo. She’s in a simple dress with a dog. No crown. These are the pictures where you get a glimpse of the woman who actually liked gardening and writing plays.
- The Eyes: No matter how much they airbrushed her skin, the intensity in her gaze usually remains. That was the one thing they couldn't hide.
Actionable Insights for History Buffs
If you're looking to dive deeper into the visual history of the Russian Empire, don't just look at the faces.
Check the background symbols. If you see an olive branch, she's trying to look peaceful. If you see a lightning bolt or an eagle, she’s reminding you she has the largest army in Europe.
Visit the digital archives. The State Hermitage Museum and the Tretyakov Gallery have high-resolution scans of these Catherine the Great pictures online. You can zoom in and see the brushwork that Roslin used for the fabrics—he was famous for making silk look so real you could almost hear it rustle.
Read the letters first. Before you judge a portrait, read some of her correspondence with Voltaire. It gives you the "voice" to match the face. You’ll realize the woman in the painting was probably much funnier, and much more dangerous, than the canvas lets on.
Start by looking at the 1783 Levitzky portrait. Compare it to the 1794 Borovikovsky "in the park" painting. The shift from "God-like Lawgiver" to "Relatable Grandmother" is the ultimate masterclass in 18th-century image branding.