Many artists paint self-portraits over the course of their careers. We see them as they want to be seen, prominent in society, in rich clothing, perhaps holding a symbol of their importance. In one of his self-portraits, “Brita and Me (self-portrait)” (1895), Swedish artist Carl Larsson (1853–1919) stands, feet spread, on a worn plank floor. He is decked out in a blue suit lined in red and wears an expression of pure joy, for on his shoulders he carries the symbol of his importance—his child.  You can hear the artist’s daughter Brita laugh as she shows her delight to be on her dad’s shoulders, as most children are; she twists her hands in a carefree way that shows complete trust that her father will keep her from falling. While balancing his daughter with one hand, Larsson delicately holds a tiny artist’s brush in the other. Idyllic Childhood, Not Larsson was …