There’s something deeply satisfying about watching a painting be restored. The slow, methodical removal of centuries of grime, the careful lifting of discolored varnish, the revelation of once-hidden details—it’s like waking up a face that has long been asleep. Colors return, textures emerge, the subject reclaims their presence.
Recently, I came across the newly restored portrait of Anne of Cleves by Hans Holbein the Younger. The before-and-after images stunned me. Where once the painting seemed muted and faded, now it shone with life. The deep reds and golds of Anne’s gown glowed, the intricate embroidery and jewelry leapt into clarity, and her face, once obscured in darkness, now met the viewer with quiet confidence.
And as I stared at her—at this renewed Anne—I couldn’t help but think of Henry VIII’s infamous words:
"She is nothing so fair as she hath been reported."
For centuries, Anne’s legacy has been trapped by that single line. We know her as the wife Henry never wanted, the woman who failed to please a man known for his fickle heart. But looking at her restored portrait, seeing her as Holbein painted her, I had to wonder: was Henry blinded by his own expectations?
Art restoration is a process of patience, science, and faith. A painting doesn’t just age—it accumulates history upon its surface. Layers of old varnish, dust, smoke, even misguided past restorations—all of these things dim the original artist’s vision. A conservator must carefully strip away these layers, one by one, without damaging the delicate paint beneath. It’s slow work, sometimes requiring months of microscopic precision to reveal what was always there.
Looking at the restored Portrait of Anne of Cleves, I saw this process as a metaphor for how we perceive history. Over time, Anne’s true story has been buried beneath Henry’s rejection, beneath the mockery of her supposed plainness, beneath the idea that she was nothing more than an unfortunate mistake. But, like a painting lost in shadow, her real brilliance has always been there—waiting to be uncovered.
Anne of Cleves was dismissed by Henry VIII before their marriage had even begun. When he met her in person, expecting the beauty he had seen in Holbein’s portrait, he found her lacking. His disappointment became legend, reducing Anne to a punchline in the story of Henry’s marital misadventures.
But here’s what’s fascinating: Anne outplayed him.
She accepted the annulment without resistance, recognizing that survival mattered more than a crown. In exchange, she secured a generous settlement, multiple estates, and the honorary title of “The King’s Sister.” This gave her rank, wealth, and security—far more than most of Henry’s actual wives ever received.
Rather than fading into obscurity, Anne thrived. She attended court, maintained good relations with Henry and his children, and lived out her days in comfort. She was, in the end, one of the few people to ever truly escape Henry’s grasp unscathed.
I wonder—if Henry had seen Anne the way Holbein did, would things have been different? The portrait presents a woman of intelligence and refinement, someone who carries herself with poise. The details of her gown, the richness of her jewelry, the steadiness of her gaze—none of it suggests an unremarkable woman.
Perhaps, like the painting itself, Anne was never the problem. Perhaps Henry’s disappointment was more about his own expectations than about any flaw in Anne.
And now, centuries later, we get to see her again, with fresh eyes.
There’s a lesson in both Anne’s story and her portrait’s renewal. The past is often obscured, not just by time but by the narratives we choose to tell. Restoration—whether of a painting or of a reputation—requires effort, patience, and the willingness to look beyond what we think we know.
As I look at the restored Portrait of Anne of Cleves, I feel a sense of justice. She is no longer just the wife Henry discarded—she is a woman of strength, resilience, and quiet triumph. She endured, she adapted, and in the end, she won.
And now, at last, we see her as she was always meant to be—as fair as she has been reported, and more.