Artemisia is the catalogue of the homonymous exhibition held at the National Gallery of London in 2020. It is divided in two parts, strictly and well connected: the first one (the topic of this review) is a detailed analysis of Artemisia as a painter and woman; the second one contains pictures of those of Artemisia's works that were exhibited at the National Gallery.
The essays in this catalogue seem to open new ways of exploring Artemisia Gentileschi's life, as a painter as well as a woman. While the episode of the rape she suffered and the male world in which she lived are clearly present in all papers of this catalogue, they are not central topics in the analysis of Artemisia's life, as has sometimes happened in past studies. Elizabeth Cropper, in “Artemisia Gentileschi: la Pittora,” does not deny the rape event, but she starts with it to focus her analysis on the role that Artemisia gave to her body for creating her autonomy—both as artist and woman—separate from the men of her life. Patrizia Cavazzini (“Orazio and Artemisia: From ‘Such Ugly deed’ to ‘honours and favours’ at the English Court”) continues in this line and demonstrates the growth of Artemisia's independence over time. She underlines how Artemisia gained a role in society as herself, rather than as her father's daughter.
Cropper's and Cavazzini's studies testify that something has changed in the trend of historical analysis of Artemisia's life and works. They present a different point of view—one that considers Artemisia as freed from the classical role of a woman whose life is guided by the men around her. Artemisia is, in this volume, investigated as Artemisia. This new kind of focus on her is due to the discovery by Francesco Solinas, in the archives of the Marchesi Frescobaldi, of a series of letters in which the Roman painter appears as her own manager. The same Solinas provides a clear analysis of Artemisia in his “Bella, pulita, e senza macchia: Artemisia and her letters.” He highlights the peculiar abilities of Artemisia to create a tight network of patrons and relationships with the main Italian and European courts of her time. Thanks to these capacities, Artemisia was able to manage not only her career as an artist but also her body.
Letizia Treves shows how the painter used her body in “Artemisia Portraying Herself.” Closely connected to the previous articles, Treves's piece describes Artemisia's presence in her pictures, with her body, of course, but also with her mind: “a self-portraiture, in the sense of a literal recording of features, and self-representation, where a resemblance is clear but the artist takes on different guises” (64). Treves's essay is a peak, of sorts, of a narrative crescendo, which allows the less experienced reader of Artemisia's life to know her better.
There is a sort of harmony among all these works, which share a red thread among them: looking at Artemisia as Artemisia. The male world seems to revolve around her, instead of managing her life. The last two essays in particular, written by Sheila Barker (“The Muse of History: Artemisia Gentileschi's First Four Centuries of Immortal Fame”) and Larry Keith (“Looking at Artemisia”), bring this common theme to the fore.
Balancing a brief history of past studies with considerations of new lines of investigation, the authors of this catalogue confirm that a different point of view in studying Artemisia is possible and essential. It must be possible to analyze Artemisia not as “the daughter of,” or “the wife/lover of,” but only as Artemisia, a woman of her times. This catalogue suggests the necessity of leaving behind the narrative of the centrality of Artemisia's rape in order to focus instead on new lines of investigation in which the Roman painter is, finally, the core of the analysis, and not a shadow, even if a brilliant shadow, of the male world in which she moved.
