Egon Schiele
Elisabeth Lederer, Seated with Hands Folded (Elisabeth Lederer, sitzend mit gefalteten Händen), 1913
Gouache and pencil on paper
48.2 × 32.4 cm
Serge Sabarsky Collection
(Kallir d1232)

The sitter is Elisabeth Lederer, the only daughter of August and Szerena Lederer, one of the wealthiest Jewish families in Vienna. Their fortune, built on distillery and starch production, supported a vast art collection and decades of patronage. The Lederers were close to Gustav Klimt, who painted portraits of Elisabeth, her mother, her grandmother Charlotte Pulitzer, and even a posthumous portrait of Szerena’s niece.

Through her brother Erich, who became a friend of Egon Schiele, the artist was commissioned to portray the entire Lederer family. Although the planned family portrait was never completed, Schiele produced several preparatory drawings, including three studies of Elisabeth. In this sheet she is shown seated with her hands folded, her pose conveying restraint and composure. Schiele’s pencil line is taut and searching, while the gouache lends subtle depth. The figure is elongated and stylized, yet the drawing retains a sense of psychological immediacy.

Elisabeth also sat for Klimt, who painted her a few years later after her marriage. Her presence in the work of both Klimt and Schiele underscores the family’s central role in Vienna’s artistic circles. For Schiele, the Lederer commission marked an important moment: it offered him access to a milieu that had long supported Klimt, while allowing him to assert his own, more modern and expressive vision of portraiture.

The later history of Elisabeth and her family casts a shadow over these images. After her father’s death in 1936 and the Nazi annexation of Austria in 1938, the Lederer collection was looted—though the family portraits were dismissed as “too Jewish” to be of value. Elisabeth remained in Vienna despite the danger. Divorced and grieving the loss of her only child, she faced persecution and circulated the story that Klimt was her biological father, a claim her mother supported in writing. Remarkably, the Nazis accepted it, and with additional protection from a former brother-in-law in a high-ranking position, she was allowed to remain in Vienna until her death in 1944.

Seen today, Schiele’s drawing is not only a study of youthful composure but also a fragment of a larger, tragic family history. It bridges private patronage and avant-garde experimentation, while reminding us how portraits can carry meanings far beyond their original moment.