“I will show you what a woman can do.” The Beheading of Holofernes by Artemisia Gentlileschi.
Last edited Fri Sep 4, 2015, 05:57 PM - Edit history (1)
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16l4-20. Galleria degli Uffizi. Florence
Damn straight, she was angry. She had been disrespected by male artists of her day who were dismissive of any woman who aspired to be a painter. She had been raped at age 18 in her father’s art studio by his friend and fellow artist, Agostino Tassi. She had been tortured with thumbscrews to “prove” her veracity when she reported the assault. Only her father, Orazio, could pursue her rapist in court, on the grounds of the “defloration” of his daughter. And even though her rapist was convicted and sentenced to exile, the sentence was never carried out. Her father tried to convince her unsuccessfully to become a nun. He then married her off to an older man. And despite giving birth four times in five years, she worked and painted some of her greatest works at her father’s studio, until moving to Florence with her husband.
The Biblical story of Judith’s act found on a Gentileschi webpage is described here
Judith was a Jewish widow of noble rank in Bethulia, a town besieged by the army of the Assyrian general Holofernes. She approached his tent as an emissary and captivated him with her beauty. He ordered a feast with much wine. After he passed out in his tent, Judith and her maid Abra saw their opportunity. Judith decapitated Holofernes with his sword and smuggled his head back to Bethulia. On seeing her trophy, the townsfolk routed the leaderless Assyrians. The story is an allegory picturing Judith as Judaism in triumph over its pagan enemy.
It is commonly believed (though unproven) by art historians that this painting comes out of the rage and helplessness she felt after the attack. It is, in the New Yorker’s Peter Schjehldahl pixie-ish description, “lovingly nuanced shock, the “Psycho” shower scene of the Italian Baroque.” The victim’s blood streams copiously down the bed. Judith is determined and workman-like, having shoved her sleeves up to her elbows and intent on a precise slicing of the man’s neck. His blood is spraying her face, chest and bodice as her servant holds him down. And she didn’t skimp on skin, gold and velvet. As her low cut bodice reveals, this is a scene of cleavage in a couple of senses.
Compare this work with her contemporary, Caravaggio’s, version
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Caravaggio’s Judith seems hesitant, and psychologically ambivalent about what she is doing ---almost sorry for causing such a mess. The blood looks unreal. The scene has none of the raw power and terror of Gentileschi’s, which is a bit odd given that Caravaggio could be so powerful in his Baroque realism in other works and, in fact, inspired Gentileleschi to her more realistic renderings..
Gentileschi wanted to tell more of Judith’s story....
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Judith and Her Maidservant
1613–14. Palazzo Pitti, Florence
This is the daring “getaway” scene for the two women, dramatically lit and filled with the tension of them trying to escape a tyrant’s tent, in the middle of their enemy’s encampment, with the bloody head of their leader in a basket. It is a moment of tension, wondering if there is any sign or noise giving them away. Judith is even swaggering his sword on her shoulder, not hiding it, and she holds it, held close and upright in readiness. Not an easy task, what they just had done...
Again, Artimesia shows serious daring and the guts to see her mission carried through to the end. It is both a stunning exercise in chiarascuro and the full-on application of the Italian Baroque taste for violence.
Susanna and Her Elders
1610. Schoenbrun Collection. Pommersfelden (Germany).
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Interestingly, the revealing back story on this excellent painting is that she painted it at age 17, before Tassi raped her and while she was working in her father’s studio. Tassi was one of Orazio’s rather shady friends so he knew where he could find her.
It is believed that the two men leering and whispering above her were modeled on Tassi and Orazio, perhaps indicating her suspicions about Tassi and her feelings about having to pose nude for her father’s works, a very unsettling idea indeed in this day and age, but not when daughters and wives were considered property of their fathers and husbands. Notwithstanding, she is her own model for this painting.
Her fear and revulsion are reflected in her expressive contrapposto pose and raised hands with delicately spread fingers. This scene from the apocryphal book of Daniel was a popular one in the art of her day It tells the story of a young Hebrew matron who, wishing to bathe outdoors, is spied upon by two Elders in her village. They threaten to claim that she was meeting a young man in the garden unless she agrees to have sex with them. She refuses to be blackmailed and is arrested and about to be put to death for promiscuity when a charismatic noble Jew, Daniel, interrupts the proceedings, shouting that the elders should be questioned to prevent the death of an innocent. He proved that they were lying and the men are put to death.
But unlike the art of the male artists who painted this dramatic scene, hers is lacking in lush flora or any bath appurtenances, except for the cloth draped on her leg. The masonry is minimally adorned, almost severe. She has delivered the story with her typical nuanced narrative.
Art historians have speculated that she was intrigued with the placement of the subjects in this late Mannerist cinquecento painting (with its intriguing trompe l’oeil effect) which they believe Artemisia saw during her years in Rome.
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Susanna and the Lusty Elders. Baldassare Croce. Church of Santa Susanna. Rome
Artemisia would not, however, be content with being just married off to the older man who “consented” to marrying a woman who was not a virgin. She had a long term affair with a Florentine nobleman, Francesco Marenghi, who was evidently the love of her life.
When Artemisia moved to Naples (then part of Spain) she began to adapt to the newer style closer to Spanish painting of the day, a style that was considered by Rome as overly devout and sweet and focused on idealized beauty. It was dismissed as art lacking discipline, employing more colore than disegno. But Artemisa was shrewd enough to read the the artistic, professional and political landscape of the Neapolitan court. Hence, her ability to adapt to new markets and to have sensitivity to the needs of her patrons. Ironically, these later works have been largely pushed aside for ones that won her far less acclaim earlier.
Artemisia has the distinction of earning her place in Italian art history of being the first woman to be admitted to Florence’s Accademia del Disegno.
Artemisia takes full and proud ownership of her work in Judith Beheading Holofernes. Art historians have taken a very close look (which we cannot discern in a photographed image): in a prominent position of the blade on the sword she wields, she has told the world “Ego Artemitia/Lomie Fec” (“I, Artemisia Lomi, made this”).
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Great essay and commentary as always!!
And, technically, it wasn't that EXACT painting, but an almost exact copy that Gentileschi had with her when she finished her career and life in Naples, so it was on loan from the Museo di Capodimonte. That is the fist version Gentileschi did, and the one she kept her whole life. The Uffizi one is a copy she did later.
Caravaggio was an absolute genius, but his Judith is a failure.
(Not every swing results in a home run!)
You can't decapitate someone from arm's length and only half-heartedly.
Thanks again
Thank you, CTyankee.
I want to get back to Barcelona but not next year. I'm going to Sicily in late April as I have to see beautiful Taormina one more time...
BTW, in Sicily did you know there is a Caravaggio in Siricusa? It is the Burial of St. Lucy, my favorite by him. When I went there in 2005 expressly to see that painting, the museum/church was closed and the painting had been shipped to Florence for repair to its fraying condition. I loved that painting (my favorite Caravaggio) and took that trip just to see that painting. It was sad, but I loved Sicily nonetheless. What a place and what a history!
I hope to see it on my April trip!
