Today, the name Judith hardÂly calls to mind a woman capaÂble of great vioÂlence. Things seem to have been difÂferÂent in antiqÂuiÂty: “The BibÂliÂcal stoÂry from the Book of Judith tells how the beauÂtiÂful Israelite widÂow Judith braveÂly seduces and then kills the sexÂuÂalÂly aggresÂsive AssyrÂiÂan genÂerÂal Holofernes in order to save her peoÂple,” says galÂlerist-YoutuÂber James Payne in the Great Art Explained video above. “It was seen as a symÂbol of triÂumph over tyranÂny, a sort of female David and Goliath.” It thus made the ideÂal subÂject matÂter for the painter Artemisia GenÂtileschi, who folÂlowed in the footÂsteps of her father Orazio GenÂtileschi, and who gained notoÂriÂety at a young age for her involveÂment in a major sex-crime triÂal.
As RebecÂca Mead writes in the New YorkÂer, “Artemisia was raped by a friend of Orazio’s: the artist AgostiÂno TasÂsi,” who had been hired to tutor her. Though TasÂsi promised to marÂry her after that and subÂseÂquent encounÂters, he nevÂer made good — and indeed marÂried anothÂer woman — which promptÂed Orazio GenÂtileschi to seek recÂomÂpense for the famÂiÂly’s lost honÂor in court. In our time, “the assault has inevitably, and often reducÂtiveÂly, been the lens through which her artisÂtic accomÂplishÂments have been viewed. The someÂtimes savÂage themes of her paintÂings have been interÂpretÂed as expresÂsions of wrathÂful catharÂsis.” This is truer of none of her works than Judith BeheadÂing Holofernes, the subÂject of Payne’s video.
“Even for sevÂenÂteenth-cenÂtuÂry FloÂrence, this paintÂing was unusuÂalÂly grueÂsome,” he says, “and even more unusuÂal was that it was paintÂed by a woman.” What’s more, it came a couÂple of decades after a renÂdiÂtion of the same BibÂliÂcal event by no less a masÂter than MichelanÂgeÂlo Merisi da CarÂavagÂgio. “CarÂavagÂgio domÂiÂnatÂed the art scene in the sevÂenÂteenth cenÂtuÂry, and he was also a good friend of GenÂtileschi’s father,” which means that Artemisia could have received his influÂence directÂly. Both of their images of Holofernes’ death at Judith’s hands are “pure Baroque paintÂings: exagÂgerÂatÂed moveÂment, high conÂtrast light set off by deep dark shadÂows, conÂtortÂed feaÂtures and vioÂlent gesÂtures, a focus on the theÂatriÂcal.”
Yet with its intense physÂiÂcalÂiÂty — as well as its frankÂness about Judith and her maidÂserÂvanÂt’s conÂcenÂtraÂtion on their murÂderÂous task — ArtemisiÂa’s paintÂing makes a greater impact on viewÂers. Mead notes that it “was for decades hidÂden from pubÂlic view, preÂsumÂably on the ground that it was disÂtasteÂful” and that it moved nineÂteenth-cenÂtuÂry art hisÂtoÂriÂan Anna Brownell JameÂson to wish for “the privÂiÂlege of burnÂing it to ashÂes.” Though the artist fell into obscuÂriÂty after her death, the culÂture of the twenÂty-first cenÂtuÂry has eleÂvatÂed her out of it: “on art-adjaÂcent blogs, Artemisia’s strength and occaÂsionÂalÂly obnoxÂious self-assurÂance are held forth as her most essenÂtial qualÂiÂties. She has become, as the InterÂnet term of approval has it, a badass bitch.” Nor has her name hurt her brand. Artemisia: now there’s a forÂmiÂdaÂble-soundÂing woman.
RelatÂed conÂtent:
A Short IntroÂducÂtion to CarÂavagÂgio, the MasÂter Of Light
What Makes Caravaggio’s The TakÂing of Christ a TimeÂless, Great PaintÂing?
Based in Seoul, ColÂin Marshall writes and broadÂcasts on cities, lanÂguage, and culÂture. His projects include the SubÂstack newsletÂter Books on Cities, the book The StateÂless City: a Walk through 21st-CenÂtuÂry Los AngeÂles and the video series The City in CinÂeÂma. FolÂlow him on TwitÂter at @colinmarshall or on FaceÂbook.
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