When looking at these portraits, some poses appear more natural and some people seem to have been put into a particular pose in order to deliver a certain message about the sitter. For example, the Byam Family appears to have been caught unawares while walking in the park, and Madame Perregaux appears to have been caught in the middle of a gesture. Others seem to have adopted a pose to communicate a specific idea. For example, Napoleon I stands like a classical statue with his right hand arm unnaturally suspended; his hand hovers over the civil code, a symbol of power and authority. His pose is telling us of his importance and perceived power. Garton Orme sits stiffly at the spinet as though about to play in a concert, illustrating how accomplished he is. Tom Sayers’s pose reflects the reason for his fame and helps the viewer identify him. Although his pose is natural for a prize fighter this is not a painting of a fight and there is no opponent in the ring.

Whatever the pose, however, a portrait can only ever give an illusion of naturalism. For example, considering the time it would have taken to paint a portrait and the length of time a pose would have to be held, it would have been impossible to capture, as in a photograph, an image in paint of someone at a given moment doing something spontaneous. In addition, these portraits would normally have been commissioned by someone (either the sitter or someone else) who would have wanted the subject depicted in a certain way for a particular purpose.

Sometimes the pose decides the whole composition of the painting. Look at the twists and turns in the portrait of Madame Perregaux by Élisabeth-Louise Vigée Le Brun, where the drape and the feather in her hat seem to mimic the turn of her body. It seems that she has been instructed to adopt this pose in order to make a pleasing picture or to convey the vivacity of her personality.

Sometimes people look directly out at us from their portraits, like the young Queen Victoria in Sully's painting, and sometimes they look off into the distance like Napoleon in Girodet's portrait or the Prince of Wales in the portrait by Gainsborough. This in turn makes us react to them. In looking at us, Queen Victoria seems to be sharing her nervousness with us in her new role as Queen. Conversely, the gazes of Napoleon and the Prince of Wales imply they have greater things on their minds. We might be being asked to admire rather than engage: to notice the fabulous symbols of power and authority.

Often in larger family portraits there is a combination of gazes, some looking out at the viewer, some distracted. In the case of Gainsborough's painting of the Byam Family and the portrait group by Giuseppe Bonito, the children meet our gaze and invite us into the family group. In the Family Portrait Group, we might look at the child holding the bird or the girl with the posy: both invite us to participate in the complex play of glances of the whole family. Likewise the combination of gazes in the portrait of David Garrick helps the viewer understand how this actor is torn between Comedy and Tragedy in his art.