FROM the special viewpoint of portrait painters, which might be defined as hungry-eyed, U.S. Presidents in general have shown one serious weakness: they dislike extended portrait sittings. And by the same token artists are apt to strike Presidents as being somewhat heedless of time and the proprieties. The classic case of this mutual difficulty came early in the nation's history, when Gilbert Stuart first set George Washington on canvas. "Now, sir," Stuart cheerily began as he took up his brush, "you must let me forget that you are General Washington and that I am Stuart the painter!" The President's bone-chilling rejoinder: "Mr. Stuart need never feel the need of forgetting who he is or who General Washington is."

When Charles Hopkinson was portraying Calvin Coolidge, he tried to animate the President's Vermont-granite features by inquiring into one of the great crises in Coolidge's life: "What was your first thought, Mr. President, when you heard that Harding had died?" Without any change of expression Coolidge twanged: "I thought I could swing it."

President Eisenhower has been true to the anti-sitting tradition, never allowed more than an hour or two for portraitists--until last month. When TIME commissioned famed Realist Andrew Wyeth to paint the President, both artist and subject hesitated momentarily. Wyeth, a deliberate and profoundly emotional artist, was naturally a bit overawed by the assignment. The President, for his part, was relaxing at Gettysburg, gathering his forces for his momentous and precedent-shattering visit to Europe. But TIME and mutual admiration brought the two together to create an important addition to the picture gallery of American history.

Ike had always liked Wyeth's work, cited Children's Doctor as his particular favorite among the American paintings on exhibition at Moscow. He found he liked Wyeth's gentle, almost courtly manners too, permitted him to spend five full days working at Gettysburg. During those five days the President posed whenever he had time to spare, from 15 minutes to an hour. At Wyeth's request Ike donned his favorite jacket, a straw-colored, nubby silk. He sat unsmiling and as if alone with his thoughts. Previous portraitists, working mostly from photographs, have tended to crystallize the popular image of a beamingly paternal President. Wyeth saw and showed an elderly, strong-minded, dedicated public servant, calm in the vortex of great events.

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