"Artemisia" 

Content Warning: Mentions of rape and sexual assault

Michelangelo. Raphael. Da Vinci. All masters of the Renaissance, and undeniably so. Strolling through the hallowed halls of the Uffizi Gallery this summer, I felt in awe of the stunning paintings I saw. But why was it that save for one exhibit, all the works were accredited to male artists? I saw this disproportion not as an indication of one gender’s superiority over the other, but rather a grim reflection of female artistic representation throughout history, specifically the Renaissance. Of the few recognised female artists of her time, Artemisia Gentileschi was a talented painter known for her mastery of the dramatic chiarascuro technique, as well as for her striking depiction of the female figure. It was her works that hung in that singular exhibit featuring female artists at the Uffizi. Widely acclaimed in the 17th century but having fallen into obscurity after her death, it wasn’t until the 1970s that emerging feminist research reignited interest in the fascinating painter. Heralded as an empowering icon by many critics for her constant “feature [of] women as protagonists or equal to men”, as commented on by Italian critic Roberto Longhi, Gentileschi is a gateway into which we can explore women in art. Although complete historical accuracy can’t be guaranteed, what follows is an attempted reconstruction of a day in the artist’s life, based on personal research.

The year is 1614, and the city of Florence is flourishing, bustling with artists, traders, musicians and scholars, all in pursuit of the success made possible by the revival of the arts. Among the success-seekers is Artemisia Gentileschi. Although the persecution of her rapist may have overshadowed many people’s impression of her, Artemisia’s acceptance to the prestigious Accademia delle Arti del Disegno, as the first woman to do so, at that, is testament to her prodigious artistic talent. Her father Orazio, an accomplished artist himself and contemporary of the prolific Caravaggio, once remarked to the Grand Duchess of Tuscany that “Artemisia, having turned herself to the profession of painting, has in three years so reached the point that I can venture to say that today she has no peer.”

Despite possessing an impressive reputation, Artemisia carries herself with dignity and grace, showing no signs of arrogance or condescension, as she walks to the Academy this morning. Her lush locks of dark hair are swept back in a low bun to reveal her prominent features and seemingly perpetually furrowed brow. She takes confident strides, lifting the hem of her crisp olive-coloured dress firmly but elegantly. As Artemisia makes her way through the cobbled streets of Florence, she is constantly stopped by market vendors imploring her to buy their wares with cries of “Beautiful lady!” Undeterred, she impatiently waves them off, and then continues on her way.

Arriving at the front entrance of the Academy, Artemisia pushes open the unimposing

Wooden doors, revealing the busy foyer packed full of artists carrying anything from canvasses to blocks of marble. They walk hurriedly, no doubt buy with any number of grand artistic projects. Amidst the chaos, the gleam of Artemisia’s dress stands out against the mass of predominantly male figures, and she can clearly be seen pushing through the crowd. Finally, she reaches her workspace, a modestly furnished area stocked adequately with oil paints and fresh canvasses. This is where she labours over most of her paintings, including such representative works as “Susanna and the Elders”, “Self-Portrait as a Lute Player” and “Judith Beheading Holofernes”. Artemisia specialises in the portrayal of strong, suffering women, taken from myths, allegories and biblical stories. Her subjects, like Susanna, who was blackmailed, molested, and wrongfully sentenced to death for adultery, or Saint Apollonia, who was a virgin martyr and had her teeth pulled out, reflect Artemisia’s own independent, fearless nature, something particularly apparent in her behaviour during her infamous rape trial.

About three years or so prior to moving to Florence, Artemisia had been living with her father in her birthplace of Rome. At the time, Orazio had been working with another artist, named Agostini Tassi, on painting the Palazzo Pallavicini-Rospigliosi. Recognising his daughter’s potential, Orazio hired Tassi as a tutor for Artemisia, arranging private painting lessons at the Gentileschi home. Not long after, however, the teacher-student relationship turned manipulative, culminating in Tassi visiting Artemisia alone under false pretenses to rape her in her bedroom. Later, Artemisia would give a moving and heart-wrenching testimony speaking of the painful details: “He then threw me on to the edge of the bed, pushing me with a hand on my breast, and he put a knee between my thighs to prevent me from closing them. Lifting my clothes, he placed a hand with a handkerchief on my mouth to keep me from screaming.” Although the traumatic incident no doubt left Artemisia scarred for the rest of her life, in times so unfavourable to women, all she could do was hope Tassi would marry her, in order to “preserve” her honour. It was not until nine months later, when her father learned of the rape and Tassi’s refusal to wed her, that he decided to press charges.

The seven-month-long trial proved arduous and exhausting, but not once, even when tortured with thumbscrews and risking permanent damage to her precious brush-wielding hands, did Artemisia crack under the pressure. Every time she was asked whether her statements were true, she gave the same answer: “Yes.” Due to the low status of women in the 17th century, many such abusive injustices probably went unpunished, and having been deprived of her mother at the tender age of 12 and facing betrayal during the trial from her close friend Tuzia, Artemisia most likely didn’t have many female figures to look up to. This made her outspokenness even more bold and inspiring. Her admirably strong resolve paid off, and Tassi was sentenced to exile from Rome, the decision probably also having to do with allegations of him murdering his wife and cheating on her with his sister-in-law. This would have been a satisfying triumph, if not for the outrageous fact that Tassi received protection from the Pope and was excused of his crimes.

About a month later, Artemisia’s father arranged for her to marry another painter, and possibly to escape Tassi, or more likely in search of lucrative opportunities, Artemisia relocated to Florence, where we left off.

It’s early afternoon now, and with the morning having been spent working on drafts for new paintings, Artemisia once again steps out onto the streets of Florence. She carries a painting wrapped in fine burgundy cloth, this time en route to the house of the Medici. Upon establishing herself as an artist in Florence, she had gained the favour of Cosimo II de’Medici, the current Grand Duke. To say that the Medici family controlled all of Florence would not be an understatement in the slightest - the bridge near their main residence had been built solely so that family members could travel by carriage to the Uffizi without having to walk. Even more impressive was that the family sustained their financial, political and cultural dynasty for more than three centuries. To have the privilege of travelling in and interacting with such elite social circles, especially as a previously illiterate person, was proof of Artemisia’s adept self-marketing and keen intelligence.

Coming to the gates of grand complex, Artemisia, being a frequent visitor of the place, is greeted warmly by the guards, and is promptly ushered into the Duke’s waiting room. Even the most simple of the rooms is elaborately decorated in the Baroque style with marbled walls, delicately carved ceilings and plush velvet furniture. It was not long before Artemisia was granted an audience, and so is led further into the Duke’s chambers, the grandeur of which progressively increases. When the Duke catches sight of Artemisia, he exclaims in delight and hurries over to unwrap the painting.

“Artemisia, you’ve done it again! It’s a pleasure seeing your work get better and better.”

“Thank you kindly, your Grace. I was hoping you’d like it.”

“After you’re finished with it, I’d very much like to hang it up. It would be an enriching

addition to my collection.”

“I doubt that my painting may be worthy of being displayed on your walls, Grand Duke, but I will put every effort into polishing it off.” Artemisia often spoke modestly but confidently and eloquently, another aspect of her personality that others found attractive. Asides from looking at new artwork, the two often had in-depth discussion regarding a variety of topics. They now started talking about the current art scene in Florence.

“Michelangelo - the younger, I mean - mentioned to me the other day...” The Grand Duke’s deep, refined voice trails off as the pair continues into the other room.

By the time Artemisia leaves the Medici villa, the sun is setting, washing Florence in hues of dusky pink, fiery orange and burnt yellow. Hearing sounds of pots clanging, oil sizzling and families laughing, Artemisia quickens her pace, so as to reach home sooner and see her husband and children. As she walks off, her outline blurs, but her silhouette remains resolutely crystal-clear against the fading sun.