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Lot Essay
This rare work by Europe’s most celebrated female painter, Artemisia Gentileschi, is one of only five known self-portraits – three of which are in museums – and quite possibly the earliest in date. Painted when the artist was barely twenty years old, it dates from Artemisia’s time in Florence, where she resided from 1613 to 1620. This period marked a real transformation in her life and career, for it was in Florence that Artemisia found her artistic voice, stepping out of her father’s shadow to become a professional painter in her own right. It was during this time that she developed into a cultured, determined, and successful individual – a period defined by her ‘becoming Artemisia’, in a phrase coined by Keith Christiansen (K. Christiansen, ‘Becoming Artemisia: Afterthoughts on the Gentileschi Exhibition’, Metropolitan Museum Journal, 39, 2004, pp. 101-26).
Born in Rome in 1593, Artemisia was the eldest child of the painter Orazio Gentileschi (1563–1639). Her mother died when she was just twelve years old and, together with her three brothers, she was taught to paint by her father. Unlike her siblings, Artemisia was prohibited from walking through the streets of Rome unaccompanied, on account of her status as an unmarried woman, and this severely constrained her access to fellow artists and to historic artworks on public display. Despite such restrictions, she had a precocious talent and was painting independently by the age of sixteen. In July 1612 Orazio wrote to Christina of Lorraine (1565–1637), the dowager Grand Duchess of Tuscany, that his daughter had been painting for three years and was ‘without equal’ (R. Ward Bissell, Artemisia Gentileschi and the Authority of Art: Critical Reading and Catalogue Raisonné, University Park, PA, 1999, p. 393, note 1).
In May 1611, at the age of seventeen, Artemisia was raped by the painter Agostino Tassi (c. 1580–1644). In the spring of the following year, Orazio pressed charges against Tassi for forcibly ‘deflowering’ his daughter, presumably in the hope of pressing for a marriage or, alternatively, the payment of a substantial dowry (see P. Cavazzini, ‘Orazio and Artemisia: From ‘such an ugly deed’ to ‘honours and favours’ at the English court’, in Treves ed., 2020, op .cit., p. 37; and S. Barker, Artemisia Gentileschi, London, 2021, pp. 33-34). Artemisia testified at the infamous trial that followed, enduring torture under cross-examination to secure her assailant’s conviction. On the day following the verdict, Artemisia married Pierantonio Stiattesi (b. 1584), the brother of the notary hired by Orazio, described in several early documents as an apothecary, and soon moved with him to Florence, where a new chapter of her life would begin.
SELF-FASHIONING IN FLORENCE
It was in Florence that Artemisia’s career really took off. No longer living under the watchful eye of her father, she gained both professional independence and personal freedom, learning to read and write. Artemisia set up her Florentine studio in the multi-storeyed house of her father-in-law Vincenzo Stiattesi (1547–1615) on via Campaccio, near the Basilica of San Lorenzo (Barker, op. cit., 2021, p. 41). From 1616, her studio was in Borgo Ognissanti, a street that was conveniently located close to Palazzo Pitti, the residence of the ruling Medici family, whose patronage she would enjoy. Artemisia met influential figures at the Florentine court, including the astronomer Galileo Galilei (1564–1642) and the poet Michelangelo Buonarroti the Younger (1568–1646), great-nephew of the eponymous Renaissance genius. It was Buonarroti who provided her with her first recorded commission in Florence in 1615 – the Allegory of Inclination on the ceiling of the Galleria in Casa Buonarroti. Though this picture is never described in the documents as a self-portrait, Artemisia clearly gave Inclination her own idealised facial features. In July 1616, she matriculated as a guild member of Florence’s official art establishment, the Accademia delle Arti del Disegno, which no doubt expanded her opportunities for meeting fellow artists and prospective patrons (Barker op. cit., pp. 53, 56). Although Artemisia gained considerable success in Florence, relatively little is known about her patronage there, particularly during the two years immediately following her move to the city. While she produced some of her finest works in the city, notably Judith beheading Holofernes (Gallerie degli Uffizi, Florence), a significant number of her works remain untraced.
As Barker notes, upon her arrival in Florence Artemisia had ‘to think entrepreneurially and even devise clever schemes in order to bring herself to the attention of wealthy art collectors’ (op. cit., p. 43). Keen to promote her talent in a city to which she was newly arrived, Artemisia made use of her own image and adopted various guises in her paintings. Over half of Artemisia’s known works have been identified – at some point or other – as containing her self-portrait, and there is a temptation to see her features in almost every female protagonist she ever painted. Fortunately, however, we know what Artemisia looked like from a number of different visual sources, including Jérôme David’s engraving based on a lost self-portrait by Artemisia (c. 1627-28; The British Museum, London, inv. 1913,0331.91), a bronze medal showing the artist in profile (1620s; Stephen K. and Janie Woo Scher collection, on loan to The Frick Collection, New York), and a painting by Simon Vouet (c. 1623-26, Property of the Fondazione Pisa, exhibited at Palazzo Blu, Pisa; fig. 1).
Artemisia’s true self-portraits – ‘true’ in the sense of representing a literal recording of her features – are few in number: they include the present work and the closely-related Self-portrait as a Female Martyr in a private collection (both datable to c. 1613; fig. 4); Self-portrait as a Lute Player (c. 1614-15; Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art, Hartford; fig. 2); Self-portrait as Saint Catherine of Alexandria (c. 1614-15; National Gallery, London; fig. 3); and Self-portrait (1630-35; Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Antica, Palazzo Barberini, Rome). For a full discussion of these and their dating see N. Bastogi, ‘Novità su un gruppo di dipinti di Artemisia Gentileschi per Cosimo II de’ Medici’, in Ricerche sull’arte a Napoli in età moderna, Naples, 2021. Further self-portraits by Artemisia are recorded in Florence, including what must have been a formidable painting – now lost – in which the artist was dressed as an Amazon warrior, wearing a plumed helmet and wielding a sword and shield, which was described in a 1638 Medici inventory as ‘una Bradamante’, in reference to the legendary female knight of Ariosto’s Orlando Furioso (G. Papi, ‘Review: Artemisia Gentileschi and the Authority of Art by Roger Ward Bissell’, The Burlington Magazine, CXLII, no. 1168, 2000, pp. 452-3; and Bastogi, op. cit., pp. 95-99).
In all these works, Artemisia is recognisable through her distinctive features – her bow lips, fleshy jowl, a prominent hump on the bridge of her nose, and well-defined eyebrows over heavy-lidded eyes. Her hair in the present work and in Self-portrait as a Female Martyr is similar to that in the representations by David and Vouet, particularly the wavy strands of unkempt hair framing her face. Artemisia was considered beautiful in her own day: in a letter of 1623, she is described ‘as beautiful as ever’ to Francesco Maria Maringhi, though this description may have been intended to gratify her distant lover (F. Solinas, Lettere di Artemisia. Nuova edizione critica e annotata, Florence, 2021, Appendix VI, p. 169). Admiration for Artemisia’s physical appearance was frequently combined with an appreciation of her artistic talents. In a poem published more than a decade after her death, the Neapolitan Giovanni Canale paid tribute to the artist ‘as famous as she is beautiful’ (cited in J.M. Locker, Artemisia Gentileschi: The Language of Painting, New Haven and London, 2015, pp. 102-3).
It is no coincidence that most of Artemisia’s true self-portraits date from her years in Florence, since this was the period during which she was intent on promoting her image and her artistic talent (see Treves, op. cit., 2020, pp. 67-70). As Christopher Marshall notes, Artemisia manipulated ‘the traditions of portraiture in order to patent her own image as an instantly recognisable artist of renown’ (C. Marshall, op. cit., p. 86; for a broader discussion of Artemisia’s Florentine self-portraits, see ‘Selling the Self’, ibid., pp. 68-91). Like Rembrandt, Artemisia took full advantage of disseminating her own image and promoting herself through her art – it was an ingenious commercial tactic and an important marketing tool that she adopted whilst launching her independent career. In Florence, in particular, there was a long-standing tradition of artists putting themselves in their pictures. Cristofano Allori famously portrayed himself as the decapitated Holofernes in Judith with the Head of Holofernes (1613; Royal Collection), and cast his mistress ‘La Mazzafirra’ in the role of Judith and her mother as the attendant. Artemisia was undoubtedly aware of this, as she knew Allori well – he served as godfather to her son Cristofano (b. 1615), whom she named after him. Moreover, Artemisia clearly understood the added appeal a painting would carry when it included her own likeness in it.
ARTEMISIA AS SAINT CATHERINE OF ALEXANDRIA
In this intimate picture on panel, Artemisia paints herself in the guise of the fourth-century saint Catherine of Alexandria. She holds a martyr’s palm, wears a crown and embroidered cloak denoting Catherine’s royal status, and is accompanied by a broken wheel studded with iron spikes – symbol of the saint’s martyrdom and her standard attribute in art. Her right hand, delicately holding the palm frond, is raised to her chest. Artemisia’s head occupies most of the picture space, drawing the viewer into a close and intimate encounter, and the tight crop further focuses our attention on her resolute expression. The turn of her head and her pose suggest that she was working from a mirrored reflection, a pose she would repeat in other self-portraits painted in Florence; including that in a private collection (fig. 4), the Self-portrait as a Lute Player in Hartford (fig. 2), and the National Gallery’s Self-portrait as Saint Catherine of Alexandria, dating from one or two years later, where she is shown with the same attributes (fig. 3). Painting herself would have been both economical and convenient, especially since models charged exorbitant fees. Later in life, Artemisia referenced this in a letter to her patron Don Antonio Ruffo, complaining about ‘the unbearable cost of hiring models’ (‘spesa intollerabile di modelli’) in the context of negotiating the price of her paintings (Solinas, op. cit., 2021, Letter 60, pp. 154-55).
The present self-portrait is closely connected with Artemisia’s Self-portrait as a Female Martyr (private collection; fig. 4). Both works are almost identical in size and are painted on panel; an unusual support for Artemisia, and one to which she does not appear to have returned. According to a bill from the carpenter Luca Mozetti, listing artists’ materials and household furnishings sent to Artemisia, included among these she received on February 12, 1615, ‘a small walnut panel for painting on’ (‘una tavoletta di noce per dipingere sopra detta’; S. Barker, ‘Artemisia’s Money: The Entrepreneurship of a Woman Artist in Seventeenth-Century Florence’, in S. Barker (ed.), Artemisia Gentileschi in a Changing Light, Turnhout, 2017, Appendix, pp. 74-75, doc. 6). This, together with the ‘4 tavolozze di noce da dipingere’ listed in the inventory of Artemisia’s Florentine studio – drawn up February 10, 1621 – have been taken as evidence that Artemisia used panel supports for small-scale paintings (see J. Mann, in K. Christiansen and J.W. Mann eds., Orazio and Artemisia Gentileschi, New York, 2001, p. 230; and F. Solinas and R. Contini, ‘Appendix 3. Artemisia Gentileschi in Florence: Inventory of Household Goods and Working Materials’, in ibid., p. 447). As Barker points out, Artemisia may have met fellow artisans – specifically carpenters – through her father-in-law’s connection with the confraternity of the Scalzo, where Stiattesi had been a member since 1589 (Barker, op. cit., 2017, pp. 64, 83, note 55). Her access to carpenters and their materials certainly seems to be corroborated by the existence of these two closely-related paintings on small-format panels.
In both self-portraits, Artemisia assumes the same pose, and a recent overlay of a tracing from the present work onto the other has confirmed that she replicated her features and the profile of her neck from one panel to the other using a transfer method such as tracing or a cartoon. This time-saving technique, which she learnt from her father Orazio – who regularly used cartoons to transfer part (or all) of his designs from one canvas to another – is also evident in other paintings executed in Florence; notably the Saint Catherine in the Uffizi and the self-portraits in both Hartford and London (see L. Keith, L. Treves, M. Melchiorre di Crescenzo and J. Russell, ‘Artemisia Gentileschi’s Self Portrait as Saint Catherine of Alexandria’, National Gallery Technical Bulletin, 40, 2019, pp. 4-17; and L. Keith, ‘Looking at Artemisia’, in Treves, op. cit., 2020, pp. 94-96). The evidence indicates that the present work and the self-portrait in a U.S. private collection were in the studio at the same time, and she may have worked on them concurrently. Artemisia’s youthful appearance in both – she can scarcely be more than twenty – suggests that the pictures date from shortly after her arrival in Florence. Poignantly, she may even have been pregnant with her first child when she painted this work; her son, Giovanni Battista, died at only a week old on 29 September 1613 (see E. Cropper, ‘New Documents for Artemisia Gentileschi’s Life in Florence’, The Burlington Magazine, CXXXV, no. 1088, 1993, pp. 760-1). They must therefore date to around 1613 and together constitute Artemisia’s earliest true likenesses painted by her own hand.
A CREATIVE TRANSFORMATION
Artemisia’s features are carefully described and delineated, the flesh tones of her head and neck modelled with subtlety, and the wavy wisps of hair framing her face are rendered with extraordinary delicacy. Saint Catherine’s attributes and, to some extent, her right hand are painted more summarily and were probably painted at speed. Technical imaging of this self-portrait, carried out at the Nasjonalmuseet in Oslo (where the picture was on loan between 2022 until recently), has revealed interesting changes to the composition (fig. 5). Infrared reflectography shows that whilst the slightly tilted position of the head was pre-determined, the back of her neck was originally exposed, like in the Self-portrait as a Female Martyr. The neckline of her dress was scooped, its edge resting on her shoulder, and this area (including the blue cloak with ornamental motifs) was subsequently changed. Her hair was originally shorter, the waves framing her face closer to those in the aforementioned portraits of Artemisia. The artist appears to have extended her hair on both sides, beyond her far shoulder and in the foreground to cover the back of her neck. The palm frond she holds in her right hand is clearly painted over the cloak, suggesting that this too was a later addition, as were the attributes of the wheel and crown (which appear almost like afterthoughts). The right hand is not as strongly modelled as Artemisia’s face, suggesting that it too was added in a second moment, as seems to have been the case for the Self-portrait as a Female Martyr (see L. Treves, in Treves, op. cit., 2020, pp. 134-5, cat. no. 9).
The composition was clearly altered to accommodate the saint’s attributes, which are squeezed in around the figure. These modifications are important, not only for Artemisia’s creative process but also because the painting’s iconography shifted from secular to religious – from self-portrait to saint – which is exactly what happened in the National Gallery’s Self-Portrait as St Catherine of Alexandria of a year or two later. Like the London painting, this work began life as a self-portrait and Artemisia subsequently turned the figure into Saint Cahterine, perhaps in response to the demands of a particular patron.
By re-using and adapting a compositional formula, Artemisia was able to quickly provide clients with variations on a design which had the added bonus of containing her own image. These two early self-portraits served as a kind of prototype, not only for Artemisia herself to develop into the half-length self-portraits in Hartford and London, but also inspiring adaptations that may (or may not be) by Artemisia, such as the Female Martyr (Saint Rosalia?) painted on a small panel of similar dimensions (32 x 24.5 cm.), formerly in the Federico Zeri collection, Mentana, which was ascribed to Artemisia by Roberto Contini and Gianni Papi but questioned by R. Ward Bissell (Bissell, op. cit., 1999, pp. 314-16, cat. [X-9], fig. 213). The fact that the overall format was emulated implies that there was both a demand and a ready market for such works in Florence, especially for those on a small scale.
Self-portraiture has always played an important role in promoting artistic talent by disseminating an artist’s own image, from the examples of Rembrandt and Artemisia Gentileschi in the seventeenth century to Cindy Sherman today. Demonstrating considerable business acumen already at a young age, Artemisia was fully aware of the intellectual and reputational power that her self-portraits held for collectors. She took advantage of her natural good looks and adopted a variety of different guises in her paintings. Her singular position as a renowned female painter made her a highly marketable subject and, for a short time in Florence, she became both muse and maker.
Artemisia would go on to enjoy a career lasting more than forty-five years, gaining fame and admiration across Europe and counting leading rulers among her patrons. Her success rested on her exceptional gifts as a storyteller, her powerful imagery, and the singular female perspective she brought to familiar subjects, in which heroic women often took centre stage.
A relatively recent addition to Artemisia Gentileschi’s œuvre, this self-portrait has found unanimous acceptance among those scholars who have been able to study the painting at first hand; namely Sheila Barker, Keith Christiansen, Jesse Locker, Christopher Marshall and Judy Mann, to whom we are grateful.
Born in Rome in 1593, Artemisia was the eldest child of the painter Orazio Gentileschi (1563–1639). Her mother died when she was just twelve years old and, together with her three brothers, she was taught to paint by her father. Unlike her siblings, Artemisia was prohibited from walking through the streets of Rome unaccompanied, on account of her status as an unmarried woman, and this severely constrained her access to fellow artists and to historic artworks on public display. Despite such restrictions, she had a precocious talent and was painting independently by the age of sixteen. In July 1612 Orazio wrote to Christina of Lorraine (1565–1637), the dowager Grand Duchess of Tuscany, that his daughter had been painting for three years and was ‘without equal’ (R. Ward Bissell, Artemisia Gentileschi and the Authority of Art: Critical Reading and Catalogue Raisonné, University Park, PA, 1999, p. 393, note 1).
In May 1611, at the age of seventeen, Artemisia was raped by the painter Agostino Tassi (c. 1580–1644). In the spring of the following year, Orazio pressed charges against Tassi for forcibly ‘deflowering’ his daughter, presumably in the hope of pressing for a marriage or, alternatively, the payment of a substantial dowry (see P. Cavazzini, ‘Orazio and Artemisia: From ‘such an ugly deed’ to ‘honours and favours’ at the English court’, in Treves ed., 2020, op .cit., p. 37; and S. Barker, Artemisia Gentileschi, London, 2021, pp. 33-34). Artemisia testified at the infamous trial that followed, enduring torture under cross-examination to secure her assailant’s conviction. On the day following the verdict, Artemisia married Pierantonio Stiattesi (b. 1584), the brother of the notary hired by Orazio, described in several early documents as an apothecary, and soon moved with him to Florence, where a new chapter of her life would begin.
SELF-FASHIONING IN FLORENCE
It was in Florence that Artemisia’s career really took off. No longer living under the watchful eye of her father, she gained both professional independence and personal freedom, learning to read and write. Artemisia set up her Florentine studio in the multi-storeyed house of her father-in-law Vincenzo Stiattesi (1547–1615) on via Campaccio, near the Basilica of San Lorenzo (Barker, op. cit., 2021, p. 41). From 1616, her studio was in Borgo Ognissanti, a street that was conveniently located close to Palazzo Pitti, the residence of the ruling Medici family, whose patronage she would enjoy. Artemisia met influential figures at the Florentine court, including the astronomer Galileo Galilei (1564–1642) and the poet Michelangelo Buonarroti the Younger (1568–1646), great-nephew of the eponymous Renaissance genius. It was Buonarroti who provided her with her first recorded commission in Florence in 1615 – the Allegory of Inclination on the ceiling of the Galleria in Casa Buonarroti. Though this picture is never described in the documents as a self-portrait, Artemisia clearly gave Inclination her own idealised facial features. In July 1616, she matriculated as a guild member of Florence’s official art establishment, the Accademia delle Arti del Disegno, which no doubt expanded her opportunities for meeting fellow artists and prospective patrons (Barker op. cit., pp. 53, 56). Although Artemisia gained considerable success in Florence, relatively little is known about her patronage there, particularly during the two years immediately following her move to the city. While she produced some of her finest works in the city, notably Judith beheading Holofernes (Gallerie degli Uffizi, Florence), a significant number of her works remain untraced.
As Barker notes, upon her arrival in Florence Artemisia had ‘to think entrepreneurially and even devise clever schemes in order to bring herself to the attention of wealthy art collectors’ (op. cit., p. 43). Keen to promote her talent in a city to which she was newly arrived, Artemisia made use of her own image and adopted various guises in her paintings. Over half of Artemisia’s known works have been identified – at some point or other – as containing her self-portrait, and there is a temptation to see her features in almost every female protagonist she ever painted. Fortunately, however, we know what Artemisia looked like from a number of different visual sources, including Jérôme David’s engraving based on a lost self-portrait by Artemisia (c. 1627-28; The British Museum, London, inv. 1913,0331.91), a bronze medal showing the artist in profile (1620s; Stephen K. and Janie Woo Scher collection, on loan to The Frick Collection, New York), and a painting by Simon Vouet (c. 1623-26, Property of the Fondazione Pisa, exhibited at Palazzo Blu, Pisa; fig. 1).
Artemisia’s true self-portraits – ‘true’ in the sense of representing a literal recording of her features – are few in number: they include the present work and the closely-related Self-portrait as a Female Martyr in a private collection (both datable to c. 1613; fig. 4); Self-portrait as a Lute Player (c. 1614-15; Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art, Hartford; fig. 2); Self-portrait as Saint Catherine of Alexandria (c. 1614-15; National Gallery, London; fig. 3); and Self-portrait (1630-35; Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Antica, Palazzo Barberini, Rome). For a full discussion of these and their dating see N. Bastogi, ‘Novità su un gruppo di dipinti di Artemisia Gentileschi per Cosimo II de’ Medici’, in Ricerche sull’arte a Napoli in età moderna, Naples, 2021. Further self-portraits by Artemisia are recorded in Florence, including what must have been a formidable painting – now lost – in which the artist was dressed as an Amazon warrior, wearing a plumed helmet and wielding a sword and shield, which was described in a 1638 Medici inventory as ‘una Bradamante’, in reference to the legendary female knight of Ariosto’s Orlando Furioso (G. Papi, ‘Review: Artemisia Gentileschi and the Authority of Art by Roger Ward Bissell’, The Burlington Magazine, CXLII, no. 1168, 2000, pp. 452-3; and Bastogi, op. cit., pp. 95-99).
In all these works, Artemisia is recognisable through her distinctive features – her bow lips, fleshy jowl, a prominent hump on the bridge of her nose, and well-defined eyebrows over heavy-lidded eyes. Her hair in the present work and in Self-portrait as a Female Martyr is similar to that in the representations by David and Vouet, particularly the wavy strands of unkempt hair framing her face. Artemisia was considered beautiful in her own day: in a letter of 1623, she is described ‘as beautiful as ever’ to Francesco Maria Maringhi, though this description may have been intended to gratify her distant lover (F. Solinas, Lettere di Artemisia. Nuova edizione critica e annotata, Florence, 2021, Appendix VI, p. 169). Admiration for Artemisia’s physical appearance was frequently combined with an appreciation of her artistic talents. In a poem published more than a decade after her death, the Neapolitan Giovanni Canale paid tribute to the artist ‘as famous as she is beautiful’ (cited in J.M. Locker, Artemisia Gentileschi: The Language of Painting, New Haven and London, 2015, pp. 102-3).
It is no coincidence that most of Artemisia’s true self-portraits date from her years in Florence, since this was the period during which she was intent on promoting her image and her artistic talent (see Treves, op. cit., 2020, pp. 67-70). As Christopher Marshall notes, Artemisia manipulated ‘the traditions of portraiture in order to patent her own image as an instantly recognisable artist of renown’ (C. Marshall, op. cit., p. 86; for a broader discussion of Artemisia’s Florentine self-portraits, see ‘Selling the Self’, ibid., pp. 68-91). Like Rembrandt, Artemisia took full advantage of disseminating her own image and promoting herself through her art – it was an ingenious commercial tactic and an important marketing tool that she adopted whilst launching her independent career. In Florence, in particular, there was a long-standing tradition of artists putting themselves in their pictures. Cristofano Allori famously portrayed himself as the decapitated Holofernes in Judith with the Head of Holofernes (1613; Royal Collection), and cast his mistress ‘La Mazzafirra’ in the role of Judith and her mother as the attendant. Artemisia was undoubtedly aware of this, as she knew Allori well – he served as godfather to her son Cristofano (b. 1615), whom she named after him. Moreover, Artemisia clearly understood the added appeal a painting would carry when it included her own likeness in it.
ARTEMISIA AS SAINT CATHERINE OF ALEXANDRIA
In this intimate picture on panel, Artemisia paints herself in the guise of the fourth-century saint Catherine of Alexandria. She holds a martyr’s palm, wears a crown and embroidered cloak denoting Catherine’s royal status, and is accompanied by a broken wheel studded with iron spikes – symbol of the saint’s martyrdom and her standard attribute in art. Her right hand, delicately holding the palm frond, is raised to her chest. Artemisia’s head occupies most of the picture space, drawing the viewer into a close and intimate encounter, and the tight crop further focuses our attention on her resolute expression. The turn of her head and her pose suggest that she was working from a mirrored reflection, a pose she would repeat in other self-portraits painted in Florence; including that in a private collection (fig. 4), the Self-portrait as a Lute Player in Hartford (fig. 2), and the National Gallery’s Self-portrait as Saint Catherine of Alexandria, dating from one or two years later, where she is shown with the same attributes (fig. 3). Painting herself would have been both economical and convenient, especially since models charged exorbitant fees. Later in life, Artemisia referenced this in a letter to her patron Don Antonio Ruffo, complaining about ‘the unbearable cost of hiring models’ (‘spesa intollerabile di modelli’) in the context of negotiating the price of her paintings (Solinas, op. cit., 2021, Letter 60, pp. 154-55).
The present self-portrait is closely connected with Artemisia’s Self-portrait as a Female Martyr (private collection; fig. 4). Both works are almost identical in size and are painted on panel; an unusual support for Artemisia, and one to which she does not appear to have returned. According to a bill from the carpenter Luca Mozetti, listing artists’ materials and household furnishings sent to Artemisia, included among these she received on February 12, 1615, ‘a small walnut panel for painting on’ (‘una tavoletta di noce per dipingere sopra detta’; S. Barker, ‘Artemisia’s Money: The Entrepreneurship of a Woman Artist in Seventeenth-Century Florence’, in S. Barker (ed.), Artemisia Gentileschi in a Changing Light, Turnhout, 2017, Appendix, pp. 74-75, doc. 6). This, together with the ‘4 tavolozze di noce da dipingere’ listed in the inventory of Artemisia’s Florentine studio – drawn up February 10, 1621 – have been taken as evidence that Artemisia used panel supports for small-scale paintings (see J. Mann, in K. Christiansen and J.W. Mann eds., Orazio and Artemisia Gentileschi, New York, 2001, p. 230; and F. Solinas and R. Contini, ‘Appendix 3. Artemisia Gentileschi in Florence: Inventory of Household Goods and Working Materials’, in ibid., p. 447). As Barker points out, Artemisia may have met fellow artisans – specifically carpenters – through her father-in-law’s connection with the confraternity of the Scalzo, where Stiattesi had been a member since 1589 (Barker, op. cit., 2017, pp. 64, 83, note 55). Her access to carpenters and their materials certainly seems to be corroborated by the existence of these two closely-related paintings on small-format panels.
In both self-portraits, Artemisia assumes the same pose, and a recent overlay of a tracing from the present work onto the other has confirmed that she replicated her features and the profile of her neck from one panel to the other using a transfer method such as tracing or a cartoon. This time-saving technique, which she learnt from her father Orazio – who regularly used cartoons to transfer part (or all) of his designs from one canvas to another – is also evident in other paintings executed in Florence; notably the Saint Catherine in the Uffizi and the self-portraits in both Hartford and London (see L. Keith, L. Treves, M. Melchiorre di Crescenzo and J. Russell, ‘Artemisia Gentileschi’s Self Portrait as Saint Catherine of Alexandria’, National Gallery Technical Bulletin, 40, 2019, pp. 4-17; and L. Keith, ‘Looking at Artemisia’, in Treves, op. cit., 2020, pp. 94-96). The evidence indicates that the present work and the self-portrait in a U.S. private collection were in the studio at the same time, and she may have worked on them concurrently. Artemisia’s youthful appearance in both – she can scarcely be more than twenty – suggests that the pictures date from shortly after her arrival in Florence. Poignantly, she may even have been pregnant with her first child when she painted this work; her son, Giovanni Battista, died at only a week old on 29 September 1613 (see E. Cropper, ‘New Documents for Artemisia Gentileschi’s Life in Florence’, The Burlington Magazine, CXXXV, no. 1088, 1993, pp. 760-1). They must therefore date to around 1613 and together constitute Artemisia’s earliest true likenesses painted by her own hand.
A CREATIVE TRANSFORMATION
Artemisia’s features are carefully described and delineated, the flesh tones of her head and neck modelled with subtlety, and the wavy wisps of hair framing her face are rendered with extraordinary delicacy. Saint Catherine’s attributes and, to some extent, her right hand are painted more summarily and were probably painted at speed. Technical imaging of this self-portrait, carried out at the Nasjonalmuseet in Oslo (where the picture was on loan between 2022 until recently), has revealed interesting changes to the composition (fig. 5). Infrared reflectography shows that whilst the slightly tilted position of the head was pre-determined, the back of her neck was originally exposed, like in the Self-portrait as a Female Martyr. The neckline of her dress was scooped, its edge resting on her shoulder, and this area (including the blue cloak with ornamental motifs) was subsequently changed. Her hair was originally shorter, the waves framing her face closer to those in the aforementioned portraits of Artemisia. The artist appears to have extended her hair on both sides, beyond her far shoulder and in the foreground to cover the back of her neck. The palm frond she holds in her right hand is clearly painted over the cloak, suggesting that this too was a later addition, as were the attributes of the wheel and crown (which appear almost like afterthoughts). The right hand is not as strongly modelled as Artemisia’s face, suggesting that it too was added in a second moment, as seems to have been the case for the Self-portrait as a Female Martyr (see L. Treves, in Treves, op. cit., 2020, pp. 134-5, cat. no. 9).
The composition was clearly altered to accommodate the saint’s attributes, which are squeezed in around the figure. These modifications are important, not only for Artemisia’s creative process but also because the painting’s iconography shifted from secular to religious – from self-portrait to saint – which is exactly what happened in the National Gallery’s Self-Portrait as St Catherine of Alexandria of a year or two later. Like the London painting, this work began life as a self-portrait and Artemisia subsequently turned the figure into Saint Cahterine, perhaps in response to the demands of a particular patron.
By re-using and adapting a compositional formula, Artemisia was able to quickly provide clients with variations on a design which had the added bonus of containing her own image. These two early self-portraits served as a kind of prototype, not only for Artemisia herself to develop into the half-length self-portraits in Hartford and London, but also inspiring adaptations that may (or may not be) by Artemisia, such as the Female Martyr (Saint Rosalia?) painted on a small panel of similar dimensions (32 x 24.5 cm.), formerly in the Federico Zeri collection, Mentana, which was ascribed to Artemisia by Roberto Contini and Gianni Papi but questioned by R. Ward Bissell (Bissell, op. cit., 1999, pp. 314-16, cat. [X-9], fig. 213). The fact that the overall format was emulated implies that there was both a demand and a ready market for such works in Florence, especially for those on a small scale.
Self-portraiture has always played an important role in promoting artistic talent by disseminating an artist’s own image, from the examples of Rembrandt and Artemisia Gentileschi in the seventeenth century to Cindy Sherman today. Demonstrating considerable business acumen already at a young age, Artemisia was fully aware of the intellectual and reputational power that her self-portraits held for collectors. She took advantage of her natural good looks and adopted a variety of different guises in her paintings. Her singular position as a renowned female painter made her a highly marketable subject and, for a short time in Florence, she became both muse and maker.
Artemisia would go on to enjoy a career lasting more than forty-five years, gaining fame and admiration across Europe and counting leading rulers among her patrons. Her success rested on her exceptional gifts as a storyteller, her powerful imagery, and the singular female perspective she brought to familiar subjects, in which heroic women often took centre stage.
A relatively recent addition to Artemisia Gentileschi’s œuvre, this self-portrait has found unanimous acceptance among those scholars who have been able to study the painting at first hand; namely Sheila Barker, Keith Christiansen, Jesse Locker, Christopher Marshall and Judy Mann, to whom we are grateful.