The Not-So-Gentle Arts
Celebrating the works of Artemisia Gentileschi
Among the first women artists to achieve success in the 17th century, Artemisia Gentileschi’s prodigious skill led to the creation of some of the finest surviving works from the Baroque period, which followed Europe’s Renaissance.
Gentileschi’s paintings are alive with dramatic narrative and a taut perspective that celebrates and humanizes her female subjects.
Though prominent in her lifetime, Artemisia’s paintings faded from our collective memory, only to be rediscovered by feminist art historians in recent decades. The daughter of painter Orazio Gentileschi, Artemisia’s style bears some resemblance to that of her father. Both were inspired by the works of the famous Caravaggio. Yet, compared with her male counterparts, Artemisia’s composition is both more feminine and more politically charged, replete with raw emotions and tension. The eye is drawn to her female protagonists; their expressions purposeful, their stance and striking arrangement lending vitality to the scene.
Gentileschi, Judith Slaying Holofernes 1614–1620 | Caravaggio, Judith Beheading Holofernes 1598–1599
Gentileschi’s first work was completed when she was just seventeen.
Entitled Susanna and the Elders, it was painted by the artist around the time a charge of rape was brought to court, by her father on her behalf, against Agostino Tassi, an apprentice of Orazio himself. Susanna is the first dated and signed work of Gentileschi and reveals her willingness to experiment with psychological dynamics of erotically charged subjects.
As Artemisia with Tassi, Susanna rejected the sexual advances of two elder men. Bruised by her refusal, they decided to ruin her reputation in court.
Which, in the end, proved her innocence.
Mythological, allegorical, and biblical themes were not considered suitable arenas of art for a woman of the 17th Century — portraiture and still life yes, but nothing else. In this context, Gentileschi’s art attacked the predominant ideals of her era. The usual distinctions between past and present, public and private, imagined and real, were no longer adhered to. Her composition reveals a fierce naturalism, combining close physical observation with dramatic intensity.
Artemisia used herself as a model for the nude Susanna. If this is in fact an instance of self-representation, then it is an example of portraiture composed in the most shocking nature — a composition of a composite; one which subverts the traditional role of 17th Century female artistry, melding domestic reality and mythology.
Gentileschi, Susanna and the Elders, 1610 | Rembrandt, Susanna and the Elders, 1647
In reviewing Susanna, it is crucial to review the status of the female model of the seventeenth century. Stigma was attached to any woman willing to submit herself to the prying scrutiny of an artist.
Even if she was representing a biblical, allegorical, or mythological feminine entity or female protagonist, she was still wilfully subjecting herself to the intense physical observation of the male gaze. If posing in clothes involved high risks to a woman’s reputation, one can only imagine what posing nude would do.
Susanna, as most female female biblical characters are described, was a “virtuous Jewish woman” whose story was used to teach that salvation comes to those who put their trust in God. However, Artemisia used the story to stress instead the dark and depraved nature of men, removing divine intervention, and developing political poles of attention. In the center, we have the defendant, Susanna horrified, disgusted, surprised, and above all, angry at the presence of the Elders — whose gaze projects dismissal and prejudice. Artemisia employs complex political pictorial vocabulary through the symbolic use of an art technique known as chiaroscuro, the juxtaposition of light and shade to create dramatic effect.
Rembrandt, who was also a follower of Caravaggio, painted the scene decades after Gentileschi.
His Susanna is cow-eyed and docile in terror. Her gaze is held by the one witnessing her molestation. She is looking at us.
In contrast, Gentileschi’s Susanna is frightened and repulsed by the menacing Elders. Her gaze does not seek out to another, or tilt up to God, but focuses on an object we cannot see — a weapon or escape of her own device.
Her Susanna would become Judith.
Through the absence of allegory and the allusion to Artemisia’s own rape trial, Artemesia’s representation undermines the traditional masculine identity of Divinity, unmasking the masculine identities as occupiers, not dispensers of Justice.
It is this unique viewpoint, a female gaze in the midst of male contemporaries, that gives Gentileschi’s work its full significance. By exploring notions of sexual politics and justice, Artemisia’s work proves its ongoing relevance, reaching far beyond the realm of the Baroque, with a stark reminder of the power of gender across the ages.
