Bernardino Campi (1522–1626) 1 — Bernardino Campi Painting Sofonisba Anguissola, 1555–1560 Oil on canvas, 111 × 109.5 cm Siena, Pinacoteca Nazionale, inv. 497
One of the most debated among sixteenth-century Lombard paintings, this canvas is at the centre of a complex attribution and interpretative debate, which began at the end of the nineteenth century and remains open. The work, which has no previous documentation, probably coincides with the one recorded in the inventory of the collections of the Gonzaga family in 1626–1627 as: “a painting with Sofonisba Angosciola and the portrait of messer Fermo, with frame, estimated at 120 lire. V”, the latter to be identified with the Mantuan painter Fermo Ghisoni. In all likelihood, the canvas passed from Mantua to the Spannocchi collections, and then to the Pinacoteca Nazionale in Siena, where, during the nineteenth century, it was long considered to be Venetian and variously attributed to Titian, Veronese and Tintoretto. Giovanni Morelli (1890) assigned its authorship to Sofonisba Anguissola and dated it around 1558. He also identified the female figure in the fictive canvas with the painter herself and the male artist in the foreground as her teacher Bernardino Campi. This interpretation – corroborated by the contacts between Sofonisba and her father Amilcare with the Mantuan court between 1556 and 1557, as well as by the presence of works by her in the Gonzaga collections – has generally been accepted, although especially in recent years, it has not found unanimous consensus. During the restoration carried out between 1996 and 1997, the original appearance of the female figure was brought to light. She can now be seen wearing an earring, and is dressed in shades of red and gold, previously hidden by a dark repainting. Even though the cleaning and diagnostic investigations have shown that in the lower right area the original pictorial layer is thin, they have allowed a more adequate evaluation of the work. The handling of paint is in fact distinguished by a soft and nuanced application, by a looser rendering of the flesh and by a less incisive quality of the drawing compared to works that certainly can be attributed to Sofonisba, elements that seem to orient the attribution towards Bernardino Campi. The creation of the painting can most likely be placed between the middle and the end of the 1550s, i.e. before Sofonisba’s departure for Spain (1559–1560), which constitutes a solid ante quem. This hypothesis is supported by the young age of the woman in the portrait, approximately eighteen or nineteen. On the other hand, as the documents attest, the relationship between Sofonisba and Bernardino lasted at least until 1561, even though she first transferred to the workshop of Bernardino Gatti, known as Sojaro, and then moved to the court of Philip II. Circumscribing Bernardino Campi’s portraiture and defining his catalogue remains complex. His biographer Alessandro Lamo cites more than a hundred paintings, but only from the second half of the twentieth century a relatively coherent nucleus of works has been identified, especially in the 1550s, including a few signed or dated
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paintings and a small group of attributions. In this context, the comparison with the Portrait of Prospero Quintavalle (Private collection), a reference point for the reconstruction of Campi’s figurative language, and with the Portrait of Ippolita Gonzaga (Private collection), becomes significant. The Double Portrait of Siena shares with them significant formal characteristics: the brushwork, the calibrated compositional structure and a construction of the image oriented towards a courtly and controlled representation. Despite the abraded pictorial film, the application of paint, defined by graduated tonal passages, approaches Campi’s technique, while it is set apart from Sofonisba’s clearer formal definition. Formal elements, such as the construction and posture of the hands, also find punctual confirmation in Campi’s portraiture. This attributive hypothesis also helps to clarify the very meaning of the work: the composition can in fact be read as an affirmation of the master’s authority through the representation of his most famous student, presented as his creation, according to a conception well rooted in the artistic culture of the time. The act of painting, the dominant position of the painter and the relationship established with the viewer thus appear as a declaration of artistic authorship. On the opposite front, the attribution to Sofonisba Anguissola has led to different interpretations, in the sign of a more complex reflection on the artist’s own identity: the painter, who is being portrayed by her master, would be giving shape to a mediated image of herself, suspended between self-representation and recognition of her own training. In this perspective, the painting has been read as a conscious manifesto of her professional status, capable of combining the role of a student with that of an independent artist. The identity of the male painter has also been questioned. If the identification with Bernardino Campi appears the most convincing – albeit with some perplexities, linked mostly to the fact that he seems older than the age of 37 or 38 he presumably was when this painting was made – alternative hypotheses cannot be excluded. As we have seen, the very formulation of the Gonzaga inventory and some physiognomic comparisons have in fact led to the proposal of the names of Fermo Ghisoni or Bernardino Gatti. Ettore Giovanati
Selected bibliography: Morelli 1897, p. 198; Sambo, in I Campi 1985, p. 176, n. 1.16.6; Sacchi, in Sofonisba Anguissola 1994, pp. 216–17; Tanzi 2018, pp. 12–13; Cole, in A Tale of Two Women Painters 2019, p. 102, n. 7; Cole 2019a, pp. 48–73; L’Occaso, in La collezione Piccolomini Spannocchi 2021, p. 165, n. 12; Hemery 2025, pp. 51–53.
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Bernardino Campi (1522–1626) 1 — Bernardino Campi Painting Sofonisba Anguissola, 1555–1560 Oil on canvas, 111 × 109.5 cm Siena, Pinacoteca Nazionale, inv. 497
One of the most debated among sixteenth-century Lombard paintings, this canvas is at the centre of a complex attribution and interpretative debate, which began at the end of the nineteenth century and remains open. The work, which has no previous documentation, probably coincides with the one recorded in the inventory of the collections of the Gonzaga family in 1626–1627 as: “a painting with Sofonisba Angosciola and the portrait of messer Fermo, with frame, estimated at 120 lire. V”, the latter to be identified with the Mantuan painter Fermo Ghisoni. In all likelihood, the canvas passed from Mantua to the Spannocchi collections, and then to the Pinacoteca Nazionale in Siena, where, during the nineteenth century, it was long considered to be Venetian and variously attributed to Titian, Veronese and Tintoretto. Giovanni Morelli (1890) assigned its authorship to Sofonisba Anguissola and dated it around 1558. He also identified the female figure in the fictive canvas with the painter herself and the male artist in the foreground as her teacher Bernardino Campi. This interpretation – corroborated by the contacts between Sofonisba and her father Amilcare with the Mantuan court between 1556 and 1557, as well as by the presence of works by her in the Gonzaga collections – has generally been accepted, although especially in recent years, it has not found unanimous consensus. During the restoration carried out between 1996 and 1997, the original appearance of the female figure was brought to light. She can now be seen wearing an earring, and is dressed in shades of red and gold, previously hidden by a dark repainting. Even though the cleaning and diagnostic investigations have shown that in the lower right area the original pictorial layer is thin, they have allowed a more adequate evaluation of the work. The handling of paint is in fact distinguished by a soft and nuanced application, by a looser rendering of the flesh and by a less incisive quality of the drawing compared to works that certainly can be attributed to Sofonisba, elements that seem to orient the attribution towards Bernardino Campi. The creation of the painting can most likely be placed between the middle and the end of the 1550s, i.e. before Sofonisba’s departure for Spain (1559–1560), which constitutes a solid ante quem. This hypothesis is supported by the young age of the woman in the portrait, approximately eighteen or nineteen. On the other hand, as the documents attest, the relationship between Sofonisba and Bernardino lasted at least until 1561, even though she first transferred to the workshop of Bernardino Gatti, known as Sojaro, and then moved to the court of Philip II. Circumscribing Bernardino Campi’s portraiture and defining his catalogue remains complex. His biographer Alessandro Lamo cites more than a hundred paintings, but only from the second half of the twentieth century a relatively coherent nucleus of works has been identified, especially in the 1550s, including a few signed or dated
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paintings and a small group of attributions. In this context, the comparison with the Portrait of Prospero Quintavalle (Private collection), a reference point for the reconstruction of Campi’s figurative language, and with the Portrait of Ippolita Gonzaga (Private collection), becomes significant. The Double Portrait of Siena shares with them significant formal characteristics: the brushwork, the calibrated compositional structure and a construction of the image oriented towards a courtly and controlled representation. Despite the abraded pictorial film, the application of paint, defined by graduated tonal passages, approaches Campi’s technique, while it is set apart from Sofonisba’s clearer formal definition. Formal elements, such as the construction and posture of the hands, also find punctual confirmation in Campi’s portraiture. This attributive hypothesis also helps to clarify the very meaning of the work: the composition can in fact be read as an affirmation of the master’s authority through the representation of his most famous student, presented as his creation, according to a conception well rooted in the artistic culture of the time. The act of painting, the dominant position of the painter and the relationship established with the viewer thus appear as a declaration of artistic authorship. On the opposite front, the attribution to Sofonisba Anguissola has led to different interpretations, in the sign of a more complex reflection on the artist’s own identity: the painter, who is being portrayed by her master, would be giving shape to a mediated image of herself, suspended between self-representation and recognition of her own training. In this perspective, the painting has been read as a conscious manifesto of her professional status, capable of combining the role of a student with that of an independent artist. The identity of the male painter has also been questioned. If the identification with Bernardino Campi appears the most convincing – albeit with some perplexities, linked mostly to the fact that he seems older than the age of 37 or 38 he presumably was when this painting was made – alternative hypotheses cannot be excluded. As we have seen, the very formulation of the Gonzaga inventory and some physiognomic comparisons have in fact led to the proposal of the names of Fermo Ghisoni or Bernardino Gatti. Ettore Giovanati
Selected bibliography: Morelli 1897, p. 198; Sambo, in I Campi 1985, p. 176, n. 1.16.6; Sacchi, in Sofonisba Anguissola 1994, pp. 216–17; Tanzi 2018, pp. 12–13; Cole, in A Tale of Two Women Painters 2019, p. 102, n. 7; Cole 2019a, pp. 48–73; L’Occaso, in La collezione Piccolomini Spannocchi 2021, p. 165, n. 12; Hemery 2025, pp. 51–53.
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Lavinia Fontana (1552–1614) 2 — Self-Portrait in the Studio, 1579 Oil on copper, diameter 16 cm Shown only in Rome Florence, Gallerie degli Uffizi, inv. 1890, n. 4013
The work, a small oil on copper, was commissioned to Lavinia Fontana by the Spanish Dominican Alfonso Chacón (1530–1599), an antiquarian and collector active in Rome. He promoted an ambitious editorial project aimed at creating a paper gallery of the painted portraits of illustrious men and women in his collection. His request to Lavinia is documented by a letter dated 17 October 1578, in which the monk asks for “a small portrait of yourself”, to be placed alongside the one already in his possession by Sofonisba Anguissola. The artist’s reply came on 3 May 1579, when she sent the painting accompanied by a letter – characterised by a “shrewd, elegant and sinuous” handwriting (Ghirardi 1994, p. 43), full of a usual false modesty – stating that “the imperfection and [...] obscurity” of her portrait would serve the Dominican only to “illustrate his most noble museum all the more”. This attitude, however, conceals a creation of the highest quality and great significance. The work is in fact presented as a complex construction of the space of a studiolo, understood not only as a physical environment but also as a mental space for artistic creation. The figure of Lavinia is half-length, in a three-quarters rotation; she is holding a pen, an element that alludes to both drawing and writing, emphasising the double dimension – manual and intellectual – of the artistic activity. What strikes the viewer is the dense articulation of the workspace, which is configured as a real private “chamber of wonders”, built through the presence of selected objects with both operational and symbolic functions. On the desktop we see an inkwell, white sheets of paper and writing instruments: elements that evoke the preliminary moment of the creative act, suspended between conception and realisation. The presence of the sheet not yet written or drawn suggests the potential of the work and the artist’s mastery of the inventive process. Next to these instruments are two small statuettes, probably plaster casts, identifiable as a copy of the Crouching Venus (now in the collection of the Museo Nazionale Romano, Palazzo Altemps) and as a counterpart copy of the Belvedere Mercury. The two objects introduce a direct reference to antiquarian collecting and the tradition of drawing from antiquity; they are not simple ornaments, but true three-dimensional models for the study of proportions and postures, consistent with the artist’s Bolognese training and with the figurative culture of the workshops of Bartolomeo Passerotti and Lavinia’s father Prospero, whose refined collection she later inherited. Behind the painter there is a structure of shelves arranged in a curved perspective, which houses a rich collection of plaster casts and fragments of ancient sculptures. Among the recognisable elements, the foot of the Colossus of Constantine, variants of Aphrodite unfastening a sandal and busts of ancient philosophers have been identified, along with other fragments derived from classical models
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known through engravings and the antiquarian tradition. This set of objects configures the artist’s home as a space for the systematic study of antiquity, in which copy, memory and collection merge into a single cognitive practice. The construction of the environment therefore suggests a double significance: on the one hand an operational workshop, on the other an erudite place of collecting and knowledge. The orderly arrangement of the plaster casts and statuettes presents the image of an artist fully aware of her cultural tools, capable of integrating direct experience and knowledge of antiquity into a coherent system of visual production. Finally, a particularly significant element is the rendering of the space, conceived as a sort of enveloping, almost spherical environment, which focuses the attention on the painter’s face. The latter addresses the viewer directly, establishing an immediate visual relationship that reinforces the self-representative function of the small copper, especially when read in relation to its destination. The image is in fact not private but conceived to be read within a cultured network of relationships, in which the painting itself becomes an instrument of presentation and professional legitimation. In the same way, the inscription, located at the bottom left, in which the artist signs herself as “Lavinia Fontana de Tappii [Zappi]”, also helps to define her intellectual and artistic physiognomy. The adoption of the double surname, paternal and marital, signals an advanced phase of her social and professional identity, following her marriage to Giovan Paolo Zappi, in which the signature is not a simple identifying element, but a true act of self-determination, which sanctions the full autonomy of the painter and her belonging to a well-established family, a cultural and social network. Romeo Pio Cristofori
Selected bibliography: Cantaro, in A Tale of Two Women Painters 2019, pp. 106–107; De Girolami Cheney 2020, pp. 45–49; Bohn 2021, p. 157; Biancani, in Le Signore dell’Arte 2021, p. 296; Brady, in Lavinia Fontana 2023, p. 46.
Inscription: “[L]avinia Fontana / [de] Tappii Facieb. / [m]dlxxviiii” (on the bottom left).
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Lavinia Fontana (1552–1614) 2 — Self-Portrait in the Studio, 1579 Oil on copper, diameter 16 cm Shown only in Rome Florence, Gallerie degli Uffizi, inv. 1890, n. 4013
The work, a small oil on copper, was commissioned to Lavinia Fontana by the Spanish Dominican Alfonso Chacón (1530–1599), an antiquarian and collector active in Rome. He promoted an ambitious editorial project aimed at creating a paper gallery of the painted portraits of illustrious men and women in his collection. His request to Lavinia is documented by a letter dated 17 October 1578, in which the monk asks for “a small portrait of yourself”, to be placed alongside the one already in his possession by Sofonisba Anguissola. The artist’s reply came on 3 May 1579, when she sent the painting accompanied by a letter – characterised by a “shrewd, elegant and sinuous” handwriting (Ghirardi 1994, p. 43), full of a usual false modesty – stating that “the imperfection and [...] obscurity” of her portrait would serve the Dominican only to “illustrate his most noble museum all the more”. This attitude, however, conceals a creation of the highest quality and great significance. The work is in fact presented as a complex construction of the space of a studiolo, understood not only as a physical environment but also as a mental space for artistic creation. The figure of Lavinia is half-length, in a three-quarters rotation; she is holding a pen, an element that alludes to both drawing and writing, emphasising the double dimension – manual and intellectual – of the artistic activity. What strikes the viewer is the dense articulation of the workspace, which is configured as a real private “chamber of wonders”, built through the presence of selected objects with both operational and symbolic functions. On the desktop we see an inkwell, white sheets of paper and writing instruments: elements that evoke the preliminary moment of the creative act, suspended between conception and realisation. The presence of the sheet not yet written or drawn suggests the potential of the work and the artist’s mastery of the inventive process. Next to these instruments are two small statuettes, probably plaster casts, identifiable as a copy of the Crouching Venus (now in the collection of the Museo Nazionale Romano, Palazzo Altemps) and as a counterpart copy of the Belvedere Mercury. The two objects introduce a direct reference to antiquarian collecting and the tradition of drawing from antiquity; they are not simple ornaments, but true three-dimensional models for the study of proportions and postures, consistent with the artist’s Bolognese training and with the figurative culture of the workshops of Bartolomeo Passerotti and Lavinia’s father Prospero, whose refined collection she later inherited. Behind the painter there is a structure of shelves arranged in a curved perspective, which houses a rich collection of plaster casts and fragments of ancient sculptures. Among the recognisable elements, the foot of the Colossus of Constantine, variants of Aphrodite unfastening a sandal and busts of ancient philosophers have been identified, along with other fragments derived from classical models
98
known through engravings and the antiquarian tradition. This set of objects configures the artist’s home as a space for the systematic study of antiquity, in which copy, memory and collection merge into a single cognitive practice. The construction of the environment therefore suggests a double significance: on the one hand an operational workshop, on the other an erudite place of collecting and knowledge. The orderly arrangement of the plaster casts and statuettes presents the image of an artist fully aware of her cultural tools, capable of integrating direct experience and knowledge of antiquity into a coherent system of visual production. Finally, a particularly significant element is the rendering of the space, conceived as a sort of enveloping, almost spherical environment, which focuses the attention on the painter’s face. The latter addresses the viewer directly, establishing an immediate visual relationship that reinforces the self-representative function of the small copper, especially when read in relation to its destination. The image is in fact not private but conceived to be read within a cultured network of relationships, in which the painting itself becomes an instrument of presentation and professional legitimation. In the same way, the inscription, located at the bottom left, in which the artist signs herself as “Lavinia Fontana de Tappii [Zappi]”, also helps to define her intellectual and artistic physiognomy. The adoption of the double surname, paternal and marital, signals an advanced phase of her social and professional identity, following her marriage to Giovan Paolo Zappi, in which the signature is not a simple identifying element, but a true act of self-determination, which sanctions the full autonomy of the painter and her belonging to a well-established family, a cultural and social network. Romeo Pio Cristofori
Selected bibliography: Cantaro, in A Tale of Two Women Painters 2019, pp. 106–107; De Girolami Cheney 2020, pp. 45–49; Bohn 2021, p. 157; Biancani, in Le Signore dell’Arte 2021, p. 296; Brady, in Lavinia Fontana 2023, p. 46.
Inscription: “[L]avinia Fontana / [de] Tappii Facieb. / [m]dlxxviiii” (on the bottom left).
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Prospero Fontana (1509–1597) 3 — The Holy Family with St Elizabeth, c. 1549–1550 Oil on canvas, 120.3 × 105 cm Vicenza, Museo Civico di Palazzo Chiericati, inv. A194
The Holy Family with St Elizabeth by Prospero Fontana has a complex and long-debated history of attribution. In the past, the work was connected to Raphael’s circle and associated with such masters as Andrea del Sarto, Daniele da Volterra and Agnolo Bronzino. In September of 1957, Philip Pouncey of the British Museum communicated orally the attribution of this work to Fontana (Barbieri 1962). Stylistically, the painting bears a resemblance to the Adoration of the Magi in Berlin and the Holy Family in Dresden, resulting in the confirmation that it was painted by Prospero Fontana (Fortunati Pietrantonio 1981). Furthermore, the 1986 restoration brought back the metallic qualities, lustre and non-naturalistic colour palette specific to the Bolognese artist (Aliberti Gaudosio 1986). The dating of the work to around 1550 is equally problematic. During this period, Prospero’s Roman Mannerist style, inspired by Raphael and influenced by Perin del Vaga, also took on aspects of Tuscan Mannerism, which had spread to Bologna following the arrival of Francesco Salviati and Giorgio Vasari. Between 1547 and 1548, Vasari and Prospero Fontana met in Rimini, where the former was working on the Adoration of the Magi for the abbey of Santa Maria Annunziata Nuova di Scolca. Vasari’s influence on Fontana is evident in this Holy Family, with its monumental composition, refined details and a brilliant yet cool colour palette, typical of Vasari’s ‘mannerism’. This artistic bond became stronger when Julius III ascended to the papal throne. Vasari, who was the Pope’s trusted architect, helped Prospero join the Villa Giulia project. Between the late 1540s and 1555, the artist worked in Rome intermittently, temporarily returning to Bologna. The canvas clearly reveals the assimilation of models from Roman painting. The frescoes in the Palazzina della Viola in Bologna (1551–1553) are particularly close to this work: in particular, the kneeling figure in the group of women at the centre of the scene depicting Constantine Ordering the Massacre of the Innocents, shows significant similarities to the Madonna in this painting. The canvas testifies to the assimilation of different models: the compositional clarity inspired by Raphael coexists alongside the linear elegance and glazed colours that recall Tuscan-Roman Mannerism. The intimate, pyramidal composition is dominated by the figure of the Virgin seated with the Infant Jesus on her lap. The figures around her are arranged according to a carefully calibrated emotional and theological hierarchy. Mary is the visual and spiritual fulcrum of the scene: the tilt of her head, her gentle gaze and the restrained gesture of her hand create an atmosphere of domestic intimacy, accentuated by the soft modulation of light on the flesh tones. The Child, who is reclining in a natural way, introduces a diagonal movement that brings the composition to life and interacts directly
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with the surrounding figures. The choice of an affectionate rather than solemn gesture makes the sacred imagery more accessible and contemplative. Mannerist elegance, narrative clarity and emotional engagement are combined in this Holy Family, where the delicate emotions and carefully balanced theatricality effectively encourage private meditation without sacrificing formal refinement. Later, Prospero Fontana became consultant to Cardinal Gabriele Paleotti (1522–1597) who in 1582, published the treatise Discorso intorno alle immagini sacre e profane, aimed at guiding artists towards a more austere, devotional and classicist style, as opposed to the more extreme expressions of Mannerism. Prospero’s daughter, Lavinia, in her religious works, and in particular in a series of Holy Families intended for private and domestic devotion, often adopted her father’s compositional schemes, iconographic solutions and physiognomic types, embracing at the same time Paleotti’s precepts. This is evident in the small copper engraving depicting The Infant Jesus Asleep, today in the Galleria Borghese in Rome (cat. XX). Giulia Bandini
Selected bibliography: Barbieri, in Museo Civico di Vicenza 1962, pp. 194–195, A194; Aliberti Gaudioso, in Museo ritrovato 1986, pp. 124–125, n. B18; Fortunati Pietrantonio, in Pittura bolognese del ‘500 1986, vol. 1, pp. 339–414; Ferriani1986b; Lucco, in Pinacoteca civica 2003, pp. 325–327, n. 159; Daniele 2022, pp. 155–156, n. D24.
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Prospero Fontana (1509–1597) 3 — The Holy Family with St Elizabeth, c. 1549–1550 Oil on canvas, 120.3 × 105 cm Vicenza, Museo Civico di Palazzo Chiericati, inv. A194
The Holy Family with St Elizabeth by Prospero Fontana has a complex and long-debated history of attribution. In the past, the work was connected to Raphael’s circle and associated with such masters as Andrea del Sarto, Daniele da Volterra and Agnolo Bronzino. In September of 1957, Philip Pouncey of the British Museum communicated orally the attribution of this work to Fontana (Barbieri 1962). Stylistically, the painting bears a resemblance to the Adoration of the Magi in Berlin and the Holy Family in Dresden, resulting in the confirmation that it was painted by Prospero Fontana (Fortunati Pietrantonio 1981). Furthermore, the 1986 restoration brought back the metallic qualities, lustre and non-naturalistic colour palette specific to the Bolognese artist (Aliberti Gaudosio 1986). The dating of the work to around 1550 is equally problematic. During this period, Prospero’s Roman Mannerist style, inspired by Raphael and influenced by Perin del Vaga, also took on aspects of Tuscan Mannerism, which had spread to Bologna following the arrival of Francesco Salviati and Giorgio Vasari. Between 1547 and 1548, Vasari and Prospero Fontana met in Rimini, where the former was working on the Adoration of the Magi for the abbey of Santa Maria Annunziata Nuova di Scolca. Vasari’s influence on Fontana is evident in this Holy Family, with its monumental composition, refined details and a brilliant yet cool colour palette, typical of Vasari’s ‘mannerism’. This artistic bond became stronger when Julius III ascended to the papal throne. Vasari, who was the Pope’s trusted architect, helped Prospero join the Villa Giulia project. Between the late 1540s and 1555, the artist worked in Rome intermittently, temporarily returning to Bologna. The canvas clearly reveals the assimilation of models from Roman painting. The frescoes in the Palazzina della Viola in Bologna (1551–1553) are particularly close to this work: in particular, the kneeling figure in the group of women at the centre of the scene depicting Constantine Ordering the Massacre of the Innocents, shows significant similarities to the Madonna in this painting. The canvas testifies to the assimilation of different models: the compositional clarity inspired by Raphael coexists alongside the linear elegance and glazed colours that recall Tuscan-Roman Mannerism. The intimate, pyramidal composition is dominated by the figure of the Virgin seated with the Infant Jesus on her lap. The figures around her are arranged according to a carefully calibrated emotional and theological hierarchy. Mary is the visual and spiritual fulcrum of the scene: the tilt of her head, her gentle gaze and the restrained gesture of her hand create an atmosphere of domestic intimacy, accentuated by the soft modulation of light on the flesh tones. The Child, who is reclining in a natural way, introduces a diagonal movement that brings the composition to life and interacts directly
100
with the surrounding figures. The choice of an affectionate rather than solemn gesture makes the sacred imagery more accessible and contemplative. Mannerist elegance, narrative clarity and emotional engagement are combined in this Holy Family, where the delicate emotions and carefully balanced theatricality effectively encourage private meditation without sacrificing formal refinement. Later, Prospero Fontana became consultant to Cardinal Gabriele Paleotti (1522–1597) who in 1582, published the treatise Discorso intorno alle immagini sacre e profane, aimed at guiding artists towards a more austere, devotional and classicist style, as opposed to the more extreme expressions of Mannerism. Prospero’s daughter, Lavinia, in her religious works, and in particular in a series of Holy Families intended for private and domestic devotion, often adopted her father’s compositional schemes, iconographic solutions and physiognomic types, embracing at the same time Paleotti’s precepts. This is evident in the small copper engraving depicting The Infant Jesus Asleep, today in the Galleria Borghese in Rome (cat. XX). Giulia Bandini
Selected bibliography: Barbieri, in Museo Civico di Vicenza 1962, pp. 194–195, A194; Aliberti Gaudioso, in Museo ritrovato 1986, pp. 124–125, n. B18; Fortunati Pietrantonio, in Pittura bolognese del ‘500 1986, vol. 1, pp. 339–414; Ferriani1986b; Lucco, in Pinacoteca civica 2003, pp. 325–327, n. 159; Daniele 2022, pp. 155–156, n. D24.
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Lavinia Fontana (1552–1614) 4 — The Infant Jesus Asleep, 1591 Oil on copper, 43 × 33 cm Rome, Galleria Borghese, inv. 437
This work is documented in the Borghese collection, where it has always been attributed to Lavinia Fontana, even though it is not certain that it was painted for the family. It is first mentioned in the 1693 inventory of the palace, described as: “a painting on panel of two palms, the Madonna, with st Joseph, st John, and st Anne with the baby asleep on a bed […] with a carved frame in silver with the coat-of arms of Cardinal Borghese by Lavigna Fontana” (AAV, Archivio Borghese 7504, c. 35). It is also mentioned in the later inventories of the palace, both in 1700 (St. III, n. 30) and in 1790 (St. VI, n. 24), again under the name of the painter Lavinia Fontana. In 1955, Paola della Pergola (p. 36, n. 45) confirmed the attribution, recognising it as a replica of an altarpiece now in the Real Monasterio de San Lorenzo al El Escorial in Madrid. The canvas, representing the Madonna of Silence, was painted by Lavinia in Bologna in 1589 and sent to Filippo II of Spain thanks to the intermediation of Alfonso Chacon, already a patron of hers. The comparison with the prototype in the Escorial shows that the Borghese painting is not a faithful copy, but an autograph version, the result of Lavinia’s usual method of reworking successful compositions and adapting them to private collections. In this sense, the small copperplate is not only a valuable example of late sixteenth century domestic devotion, but also a document of the international spread of Lavinia Fontana’s fame and her ability to combine formal refinement, emotional intimacy and iconographic rigour. The terms and circumstances of the commission are not well documented. Caroline Murphy (2003) has put forward the reasonable hypothesis that the work was painted for Camillo Borghese, the future Pope Paul V, during his stay in Bologna in 1591 as vice-legate. This position encouraged his contacts with local artists and in particular Lavinia Fontana, who was already active in the production of replicas and variants of the altarpiece meant for the Escorial. The extraordinary success of the Madrid prototype is also attested to by contemporary sources: in 1602, Father José de Sigüenza reported the existence of numerous copies of the painting, evidence of the rapid spread of the model and its success with private patrons. This popularity was also linked to the prestige of the royal commission, for which Lavinia received an exceptional fee of a thousand ducats, as the painter and biographer Francisco Pacheco (1649) recalls. The composition depicts the baby Jesus asleep in an atmosphere of intimate suspension, watched over by Elizabeth, the young Saint John the Baptist, Saint Joseph and by the Virgin, who is lifting a transparent veil that will cover him. This action, affectionate and solemn, transforms the domestic scene into a meditation on the mystery of the Incarnation and the salvific role of the Child. The
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subject is full of symbolic meanings, made explicit in the Escorial prototype by the motto COR MEUM VIGILAT, inscribed on the bedsheet, as discussed by Stefania Biancani (2021). The sentence, taken from the Song of Songs, like the motto “Silentio Deum Cole” in the Symbolicae Quaestiones by the Bolognese humanist Achille Bocchi, alludes to spiritual watchfulness and silent contemplation as privileged means of access to Divine Truth. In this composition, Lavinia Fontana consciously blends two great archetypes of the Renaissance tradition (Fortunati 1998). The gesture of the Virgin is taken from the Madonna of the Veil by Raphael (Chantilly, Musée Condé), as well as the idea of a physical and symbolic uncovering that invites the faithful to contemplate the mystery incarnate. The figure of the young Saint John asking for silence with the gesture of his hand and his concentrated expression, filling the scene with a strong meditative tension, recalls instead the drawing of the Madonna of Silence by Michelangelo Buonarroti (Harley Foundation, The Portland Collection). Prospero’s influence on Lavinia is also clearly visible in this work, especially if we compare it with the The Holy Family with Saint Elizabeth and the Infant John the Baptist by her father, now in Vicenza (cat. XX). Both works have a pyramidal structure and a strongly theatrical arrangement of the figures, emphasised by the scenographic curtain: the Virgin in the centre of the scene becomes the visual and emotional fulcrum around which all the other characters are organised. Also noteworthy is the similarity of the reclined visage of Mary, sweetly turned towards the baby, and of her pose, composed and affectionate, that expresses protection and intimate emotional participation. Giulia Bandini
Selected bibliography: Pacheco 1649, p. 94; Della Pergola 1955, p. 36, n. 45; Cantaro 1989, pp. 156–157; Fortunati 1998, pp. 21–22; Murphy 2003, pp. 170–171; Biancani 2021, p. 301, n. 3.11; Iommelli 2022b.
Inscriptions: “LAVI... FACIE... 1591”.
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Lavinia Fontana (1552–1614) 4 — The Infant Jesus Asleep, 1591 Oil on copper, 43 × 33 cm Rome, Galleria Borghese, inv. 437
This work is documented in the Borghese collection, where it has always been attributed to Lavinia Fontana, even though it is not certain that it was painted for the family. It is first mentioned in the 1693 inventory of the palace, described as: “a painting on panel of two palms, the Madonna, with st Joseph, st John, and st Anne with the baby asleep on a bed […] with a carved frame in silver with the coat-of arms of Cardinal Borghese by Lavigna Fontana” (AAV, Archivio Borghese 7504, c. 35). It is also mentioned in the later inventories of the palace, both in 1700 (St. III, n. 30) and in 1790 (St. VI, n. 24), again under the name of the painter Lavinia Fontana. In 1955, Paola della Pergola (p. 36, n. 45) confirmed the attribution, recognising it as a replica of an altarpiece now in the Real Monasterio de San Lorenzo al El Escorial in Madrid. The canvas, representing the Madonna of Silence, was painted by Lavinia in Bologna in 1589 and sent to Filippo II of Spain thanks to the intermediation of Alfonso Chacon, already a patron of hers. The comparison with the prototype in the Escorial shows that the Borghese painting is not a faithful copy, but an autograph version, the result of Lavinia’s usual method of reworking successful compositions and adapting them to private collections. In this sense, the small copperplate is not only a valuable example of late sixteenth century domestic devotion, but also a document of the international spread of Lavinia Fontana’s fame and her ability to combine formal refinement, emotional intimacy and iconographic rigour. The terms and circumstances of the commission are not well documented. Caroline Murphy (2003) has put forward the reasonable hypothesis that the work was painted for Camillo Borghese, the future Pope Paul V, during his stay in Bologna in 1591 as vice-legate. This position encouraged his contacts with local artists and in particular Lavinia Fontana, who was already active in the production of replicas and variants of the altarpiece meant for the Escorial. The extraordinary success of the Madrid prototype is also attested to by contemporary sources: in 1602, Father José de Sigüenza reported the existence of numerous copies of the painting, evidence of the rapid spread of the model and its success with private patrons. This popularity was also linked to the prestige of the royal commission, for which Lavinia received an exceptional fee of a thousand ducats, as the painter and biographer Francisco Pacheco (1649) recalls. The composition depicts the baby Jesus asleep in an atmosphere of intimate suspension, watched over by Elizabeth, the young Saint John the Baptist, Saint Joseph and by the Virgin, who is lifting a transparent veil that will cover him. This action, affectionate and solemn, transforms the domestic scene into a meditation on the mystery of the Incarnation and the salvific role of the Child. The
102
subject is full of symbolic meanings, made explicit in the Escorial prototype by the motto COR MEUM VIGILAT, inscribed on the bedsheet, as discussed by Stefania Biancani (2021). The sentence, taken from the Song of Songs, like the motto “Silentio Deum Cole” in the Symbolicae Quaestiones by the Bolognese humanist Achille Bocchi, alludes to spiritual watchfulness and silent contemplation as privileged means of access to Divine Truth. In this composition, Lavinia Fontana consciously blends two great archetypes of the Renaissance tradition (Fortunati 1998). The gesture of the Virgin is taken from the Madonna of the Veil by Raphael (Chantilly, Musée Condé), as well as the idea of a physical and symbolic uncovering that invites the faithful to contemplate the mystery incarnate. The figure of the young Saint John asking for silence with the gesture of his hand and his concentrated expression, filling the scene with a strong meditative tension, recalls instead the drawing of the Madonna of Silence by Michelangelo Buonarroti (Harley Foundation, The Portland Collection). Prospero’s influence on Lavinia is also clearly visible in this work, especially if we compare it with the The Holy Family with Saint Elizabeth and the Infant John the Baptist by her father, now in Vicenza (cat. XX). Both works have a pyramidal structure and a strongly theatrical arrangement of the figures, emphasised by the scenographic curtain: the Virgin in the centre of the scene becomes the visual and emotional fulcrum around which all the other characters are organised. Also noteworthy is the similarity of the reclined visage of Mary, sweetly turned towards the baby, and of her pose, composed and affectionate, that expresses protection and intimate emotional participation. Giulia Bandini
Selected bibliography: Pacheco 1649, p. 94; Della Pergola 1955, p. 36, n. 45; Cantaro 1989, pp. 156–157; Fortunati 1998, pp. 21–22; Murphy 2003, pp. 170–171; Biancani 2021, p. 301, n. 3.11; Iommelli 2022b.
Inscriptions: “LAVI... FACIE... 1591”.
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Prospero Fontana (1509–1597) 5 — Portrait of a Lady in Green, c. 1556–1557 Oil on canvas, 90 × 120 cm Bologna, Museo d’Arte Industriale and Galleria Davia Bargellini, owned by Fondazione Opera Pia Davia Bargellini, inv. 387
This painting is a splendid example of Prospero Fontana’s activity as portraitist, which was more limited than that of his daughter. It was initially attributed to Bartolomeo Cesi by Alberto Graziani (1939), but later Vera Fortunati (1986) gave the attribution to Fontana, proposing a date between 1565 and 1570. This chronological placement corresponds to the artist’s return to Bologna from Florence, where he had worked alongside his friend Giorgio Vasari and other masters on the decoration of Palazzo Vecchio. The experience Fontana gained there working alongside Vasari, steered him towards a strongly scenographic style based on the use of perspective illusionism and painted architecture, of which he became a recognised master. The noblewoman is seated on a simple wooden chair, in a sombre and unadorned domestic interior revealed as a palace by the curved pediment of the portal in the background. In contrast to the austerity of the room, the social status of the sitter is highlighted through the careful depiction of her attire. The bottle-green gown, a camora typical of the early sixteenth century with wide embroidered sleeves and delicate golden decoration, finds an illustrious precedent of the Portrait of a Lady (la Bella) by Titian, now in Gallerie degli Uffizi, Florence. The plunging neckline is here replaced by a finely pleated chemise, according to the dictates of modesty in Counter-Reformation Bologna. These are satisfied also by the archaising gold hairnet holding the hair, reminiscent of those worn by Roman women at the time of Nero. The expensive sable stole, with the head covered by a refined piece of jewellery, as well as the pearl necklace, underline the woman’s wealth without ostentation. The oval pendant reveals Fontana’s apprenticeship with Innocenzo da Imola, claimed by various sources, as it is repeated almost identically in various works by the latter. The bright red table – the only striking colour amidst more subdued hues – reinforces the spatial depth. This is also expanded by the aperture into another room, where two servants open the windows and thereby introduce a narrative of daily life. This theatrical device was repeatedly adopted by Lavinia, for example in her Child in a Cot (cat. XX) in the Pinacoteca Nazionale in Bologna. The whole composition of the painting, this detail included, derives from the Portrait of Isabel de Requesens Vicereine of Naples by Raphael and Giulio Romano. It was donated to Francis I by Pope Leo X and displayed in Fontainebleau at least until 1625, where Prospero certainly saw it during his brief stay around 1560 (Meyer zur Cappellen 2008, III, p. 150). The diagonal placement of the three-quarter figure is almost identical, but Prospero, who captures her from a closer distance, psychologically distances her from the viewer by turning her gaze away and lending her a more pensive air. The status of the vicereine is here adapted
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to that of the woman portrayed, probably a member of a Bolognese senatorial family, the social class that governed the city and often commissioned works to both Prospero and Lavinia. In the Portrait of a Lady the still-life element – the vase of flowers on the table rendered with meticulous descriptive precision – is particularly significant, revealing not merely an aesthetic interest in the natural world, but a scientific one. This sensibility undoubtedly originates from the painter’s familiarity with the scientific research of his friend, the naturalist Ulisse Aldrovandi, a central figure in late sixteenth-century Bolognese culture and a proponent of a systematic approach to the study of plants and animals. Malvasia (1841, p. 174) recalls how the naturalist was in the habit of visiting the home of the two Fontana. In developing her own style of female portraiture, Lavinia Fontana shows a clear debt to her father’s work, from which she borrows not only compositional solutions but also a precise ideological framework for the portrait of a lady as an image of rank, virtue and culture. From her father’s models, Lavinia adopts the full-length or threequarter-length composition within articulated interiors, often enlivened by openings in the background or secondary figures that expand the spatial depth and introduce a subtle narrative dimension. While with Prospero these elements still adhere to a classically ordered framework, reminiscent of Raphael’s style, in Lavinia’s work they are enriched by a more pronounced descriptive sensibility and a more immediate psychological engagement. The influence is therefore not limited to a simple formal comparison but takes the form of a true continuity of workshop and figurative culture: Lavinia reworks her father’s model, adapting it to the demands of the aristocratic and cultured clientele of late-sixteenth-century Bologna, thereby helping to establish the portrait of a lady as the privileged genre of her professional success. Giulia Bandini
Selected bibliography: Fortunati Pietrantonio 1981; Olmi, in Le Arti a Bologna 1981, pp. 151–171; Giudici, in Dall’avanguardia dei Carracci 1988, pp. 152–153; Sabbatini, in Lavinia Fontana 1994, pp. 187–188; Daniele 2022, p. 165, n. D46.
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Prospero Fontana (1509–1597) 5 — Portrait of a Lady in Green, c. 1556–1557 Oil on canvas, 90 × 120 cm Bologna, Museo d’Arte Industriale and Galleria Davia Bargellini, owned by Fondazione Opera Pia Davia Bargellini, inv. 387
This painting is a splendid example of Prospero Fontana’s activity as portraitist, which was more limited than that of his daughter. It was initially attributed to Bartolomeo Cesi by Alberto Graziani (1939), but later Vera Fortunati (1986) gave the attribution to Fontana, proposing a date between 1565 and 1570. This chronological placement corresponds to the artist’s return to Bologna from Florence, where he had worked alongside his friend Giorgio Vasari and other masters on the decoration of Palazzo Vecchio. The experience Fontana gained there working alongside Vasari, steered him towards a strongly scenographic style based on the use of perspective illusionism and painted architecture, of which he became a recognised master. The noblewoman is seated on a simple wooden chair, in a sombre and unadorned domestic interior revealed as a palace by the curved pediment of the portal in the background. In contrast to the austerity of the room, the social status of the sitter is highlighted through the careful depiction of her attire. The bottle-green gown, a camora typical of the early sixteenth century with wide embroidered sleeves and delicate golden decoration, finds an illustrious precedent of the Portrait of a Lady (la Bella) by Titian, now in Gallerie degli Uffizi, Florence. The plunging neckline is here replaced by a finely pleated chemise, according to the dictates of modesty in Counter-Reformation Bologna. These are satisfied also by the archaising gold hairnet holding the hair, reminiscent of those worn by Roman women at the time of Nero. The expensive sable stole, with the head covered by a refined piece of jewellery, as well as the pearl necklace, underline the woman’s wealth without ostentation. The oval pendant reveals Fontana’s apprenticeship with Innocenzo da Imola, claimed by various sources, as it is repeated almost identically in various works by the latter. The bright red table – the only striking colour amidst more subdued hues – reinforces the spatial depth. This is also expanded by the aperture into another room, where two servants open the windows and thereby introduce a narrative of daily life. This theatrical device was repeatedly adopted by Lavinia, for example in her Child in a Cot (cat. XX) in the Pinacoteca Nazionale in Bologna. The whole composition of the painting, this detail included, derives from the Portrait of Isabel de Requesens Vicereine of Naples by Raphael and Giulio Romano. It was donated to Francis I by Pope Leo X and displayed in Fontainebleau at least until 1625, where Prospero certainly saw it during his brief stay around 1560 (Meyer zur Cappellen 2008, III, p. 150). The diagonal placement of the three-quarter figure is almost identical, but Prospero, who captures her from a closer distance, psychologically distances her from the viewer by turning her gaze away and lending her a more pensive air. The status of the vicereine is here adapted
104
to that of the woman portrayed, probably a member of a Bolognese senatorial family, the social class that governed the city and often commissioned works to both Prospero and Lavinia. In the Portrait of a Lady the still-life element – the vase of flowers on the table rendered with meticulous descriptive precision – is particularly significant, revealing not merely an aesthetic interest in the natural world, but a scientific one. This sensibility undoubtedly originates from the painter’s familiarity with the scientific research of his friend, the naturalist Ulisse Aldrovandi, a central figure in late sixteenth-century Bolognese culture and a proponent of a systematic approach to the study of plants and animals. Malvasia (1841, p. 174) recalls how the naturalist was in the habit of visiting the home of the two Fontana. In developing her own style of female portraiture, Lavinia Fontana shows a clear debt to her father’s work, from which she borrows not only compositional solutions but also a precise ideological framework for the portrait of a lady as an image of rank, virtue and culture. From her father’s models, Lavinia adopts the full-length or threequarter-length composition within articulated interiors, often enlivened by openings in the background or secondary figures that expand the spatial depth and introduce a subtle narrative dimension. While with Prospero these elements still adhere to a classically ordered framework, reminiscent of Raphael’s style, in Lavinia’s work they are enriched by a more pronounced descriptive sensibility and a more immediate psychological engagement. The influence is therefore not limited to a simple formal comparison but takes the form of a true continuity of workshop and figurative culture: Lavinia reworks her father’s model, adapting it to the demands of the aristocratic and cultured clientele of late-sixteenth-century Bologna, thereby helping to establish the portrait of a lady as the privileged genre of her professional success. Giulia Bandini
Selected bibliography: Fortunati Pietrantonio 1981; Olmi, in Le Arti a Bologna 1981, pp. 151–171; Giudici, in Dall’avanguardia dei Carracci 1988, pp. 152–153; Sabbatini, in Lavinia Fontana 1994, pp. 187–188; Daniele 2022, p. 165, n. D46.
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Lavinia Fontana (1552–1614) 6 — Portrait of Costanza Alidosi Isolani, 1595–1597 Oil on canvas, 157.5 × 120 cm Shown only in Rome Washington DC, National Museum of Women in the Arts, inv. 200.72
Two versions of this painting exist; the one in a private collection in Bologna has made possible the identification of the sitter, Costanza Alidosi Isolani, thanks to an inscription dating slightly later than the painting. Aoife Brady suggests that the canvas on display here also bore the same inscription in the abraded area at the bottom right. If this is the case, the eighteenth-century sources praising Lavinia Fontana’s portrait of Costanza Alidosi likely refer to this version. Gianpietro Zanotti, in his notes to the text of the Felsina pittrice by the biographer Carlo Cesare Malvasia, simply refers to the “portrait of a lady seated with a small dog on her lap”, a “divine” work by Lavinia Fontana (1841, p. 177, note 3); Marcello Oretti repeatedly cites a portrait of Costanza in which the inscription was legible, informing us that the woman died on 2 April 1597 at the age of forty (Bologna, Biblioteca comunale dell’Archiginnasio, Bologna, mss. B. 104, II, f. 170; B. 109, Indice delli ritratti, f. 11; B. 124, II, f. 11). Contrary to what is often claimed, the two authors refer to the same version, as they both place it in “casa Isolani” in Bologna, in Piazza Santo Stefano, as Oretti specifies. Costanza, daughter of Alessandro Alidosi of Imola and Caterina Gaddi of Florence, was considered the most beautiful and virtuous woman in Bologna, described as a “glory of the world” and “glorious sun” by her contemporaries (Murphy 2003; Marescotti 1589, pp. 230–232; Bologna, Biblioteca Universitaria di Bologna, ms. 1207; Manfredi 1580, pp. 92–94; Ginanni s.d., p. 108). Married to the Bolognese Ridolfo Isolani, Count of Minerbio, senator and ambassador to Florence, in 1571, Costanza often managed the family affairs independently due to her husband’s prolonged absences (Murphy 2003). She lived in Strada Maggiore, in the House of the Three Arrows, made famous by a medieval legend, not in Piazza Santo Stefano, where the family later moved (Guidicini 1876, II, p. 159). The proposed dates for the two versions of the painting range from the mid-1580s to the end of the sixteenth century, with 1597 – the year of Costanza’s death – generally considered the terminus ante quem (latest conceivable date). Patrizia Tosini’s hypothesis (2020, p. 138) that it is instead a posthumous portrait seems to find confirmation in the existence of a rare medal bearing the inscription “Costanza Alidosia Isolana” (Turin, Collezioni Reali; Venice, Galleria Giorgio Franchetti alla Ca’d’Oro). According to the scholar Alfred Armand, the bronze casting, of considerable size and quality (6.6 cm), dates from 1571, the year of Costanza’s marriage (Armand 1883–1887, I [1883], p. 220). In the medal, the woman is considerably younger than in the painting – she should in fact be around 15 – but she is wearing the same dress, the same jewellery and has a similar hairstyle. It is plausible that Ridolfo Isolani commissioned Lavinia Fontana to paint a portrait of his
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late wife, providing her with the medal as a model, and requesting a copy for his residence in Minerbio. Alternatively, Costanza herself may have had her portrait painted wearing her most sumptuous gown, which she had already worn for the medal more than twenty years before. In any case, the independence and managerial authority demonstrated by the noblewoman in Bologna – unusual for the time – find a direct figurative expression in this portrait that celebrates her authority. The sumptuous dress, the pearls, the precious rings and the elaborate hairstyle emphasise her social rank, whilst the crucifix highlights her Christian piety. Her loyalty is symbolised by the little dog, typical of Bolognese ladies, and by the juniper in her neckline. The two versions of the painting present some formal variations that distinguish them while maintaining the same composition, mainly in the perspective opening in the background on the left and the shape of the glass vase resting on the small table. The different views presumably correspond to the different locations of the two paintings: the urban background identifies the city palace, while the landscape evokes the Isolani country residence in Minerbio, where the canvas now in a private collection was found (Cantaro 1989). The composition of this work, from the refined stilllife detail to the perspective opening of the background, clearly reflects the influence of the Portrait of a Lady at the Davia Bargellini Museum in Bologna (cat. XX), by Lavinia Fontana’s father Prospero. He had in turn drawn inspiration from the courtly model of Raphael’s and Giulio Romano’s Portrait of Isabella de Requesens, which he had seen at Fontainebleau (cat. XX). Lavinia’s marked sensitivity to the natural world has its roots in her association with the circle of Ulisse Aldrovandi, a frequent visitor to the Fontana household, and in her contacts with the Carracci, whom Lavinia had met in her father’s studio. Though echoing the formal composition and solemn decorum of Prospero’s work, Lavinia distinguishes herself through a more modern and analytical sensibility, with the light that contributes to make the setting more natural and homely. Furthermore, the meticulous attention to detail – as in the case of the vase and the reflections on its surface – reveals a desire for direct observation that transcends her father’s rigidity, and which, according to Tosini, might stem from her familiarity with Caravaggio, assuming Lavinia had been in Rome before her definitive move (2020, p. 138). From a stylistic perspective, this work is situated between the Portrait of Isabella Ruini in the Pitti Palace Gallery, dated 1593, and the Visit of the Queen of Sheba to King Solomon, of 1599 (Dublin, National Gallery of Ireland). Giulia Bandini
Selected bibliography: Malvasia 1841, I, p. 177, n. 3; Cantaro 1989, pp. 172–173; Ferriani, in Lavinia Fontana 1994, p. 194, n. 55; Murphy 2003, pp. 93–97; Biancani, in A Tale of Two Women Painters 2019, pp. 180–181, n. 41; Brady, in Lavinia Fontana 2023, pp. 78–79, n. 24.
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Lavinia Fontana (1552–1614) 6 — Portrait of Costanza Alidosi Isolani, 1595–1597 Oil on canvas, 157.5 × 120 cm Shown only in Rome Washington DC, National Museum of Women in the Arts, inv. 200.72
Two versions of this painting exist; the one in a private collection in Bologna has made possible the identification of the sitter, Costanza Alidosi Isolani, thanks to an inscription dating slightly later than the painting. Aoife Brady suggests that the canvas on display here also bore the same inscription in the abraded area at the bottom right. If this is the case, the eighteenth-century sources praising Lavinia Fontana’s portrait of Costanza Alidosi likely refer to this version. Gianpietro Zanotti, in his notes to the text of the Felsina pittrice by the biographer Carlo Cesare Malvasia, simply refers to the “portrait of a lady seated with a small dog on her lap”, a “divine” work by Lavinia Fontana (1841, p. 177, note 3); Marcello Oretti repeatedly cites a portrait of Costanza in which the inscription was legible, informing us that the woman died on 2 April 1597 at the age of forty (Bologna, Biblioteca comunale dell’Archiginnasio, Bologna, mss. B. 104, II, f. 170; B. 109, Indice delli ritratti, f. 11; B. 124, II, f. 11). Contrary to what is often claimed, the two authors refer to the same version, as they both place it in “casa Isolani” in Bologna, in Piazza Santo Stefano, as Oretti specifies. Costanza, daughter of Alessandro Alidosi of Imola and Caterina Gaddi of Florence, was considered the most beautiful and virtuous woman in Bologna, described as a “glory of the world” and “glorious sun” by her contemporaries (Murphy 2003; Marescotti 1589, pp. 230–232; Bologna, Biblioteca Universitaria di Bologna, ms. 1207; Manfredi 1580, pp. 92–94; Ginanni s.d., p. 108). Married to the Bolognese Ridolfo Isolani, Count of Minerbio, senator and ambassador to Florence, in 1571, Costanza often managed the family affairs independently due to her husband’s prolonged absences (Murphy 2003). She lived in Strada Maggiore, in the House of the Three Arrows, made famous by a medieval legend, not in Piazza Santo Stefano, where the family later moved (Guidicini 1876, II, p. 159). The proposed dates for the two versions of the painting range from the mid-1580s to the end of the sixteenth century, with 1597 – the year of Costanza’s death – generally considered the terminus ante quem (latest conceivable date). Patrizia Tosini’s hypothesis (2020, p. 138) that it is instead a posthumous portrait seems to find confirmation in the existence of a rare medal bearing the inscription “Costanza Alidosia Isolana” (Turin, Collezioni Reali; Venice, Galleria Giorgio Franchetti alla Ca’d’Oro). According to the scholar Alfred Armand, the bronze casting, of considerable size and quality (6.6 cm), dates from 1571, the year of Costanza’s marriage (Armand 1883–1887, I [1883], p. 220). In the medal, the woman is considerably younger than in the painting – she should in fact be around 15 – but she is wearing the same dress, the same jewellery and has a similar hairstyle. It is plausible that Ridolfo Isolani commissioned Lavinia Fontana to paint a portrait of his
106
late wife, providing her with the medal as a model, and requesting a copy for his residence in Minerbio. Alternatively, Costanza herself may have had her portrait painted wearing her most sumptuous gown, which she had already worn for the medal more than twenty years before. In any case, the independence and managerial authority demonstrated by the noblewoman in Bologna – unusual for the time – find a direct figurative expression in this portrait that celebrates her authority. The sumptuous dress, the pearls, the precious rings and the elaborate hairstyle emphasise her social rank, whilst the crucifix highlights her Christian piety. Her loyalty is symbolised by the little dog, typical of Bolognese ladies, and by the juniper in her neckline. The two versions of the painting present some formal variations that distinguish them while maintaining the same composition, mainly in the perspective opening in the background on the left and the shape of the glass vase resting on the small table. The different views presumably correspond to the different locations of the two paintings: the urban background identifies the city palace, while the landscape evokes the Isolani country residence in Minerbio, where the canvas now in a private collection was found (Cantaro 1989). The composition of this work, from the refined stilllife detail to the perspective opening of the background, clearly reflects the influence of the Portrait of a Lady at the Davia Bargellini Museum in Bologna (cat. XX), by Lavinia Fontana’s father Prospero. He had in turn drawn inspiration from the courtly model of Raphael’s and Giulio Romano’s Portrait of Isabella de Requesens, which he had seen at Fontainebleau (cat. XX). Lavinia’s marked sensitivity to the natural world has its roots in her association with the circle of Ulisse Aldrovandi, a frequent visitor to the Fontana household, and in her contacts with the Carracci, whom Lavinia had met in her father’s studio. Though echoing the formal composition and solemn decorum of Prospero’s work, Lavinia distinguishes herself through a more modern and analytical sensibility, with the light that contributes to make the setting more natural and homely. Furthermore, the meticulous attention to detail – as in the case of the vase and the reflections on its surface – reveals a desire for direct observation that transcends her father’s rigidity, and which, according to Tosini, might stem from her familiarity with Caravaggio, assuming Lavinia had been in Rome before her definitive move (2020, p. 138). From a stylistic perspective, this work is situated between the Portrait of Isabella Ruini in the Pitti Palace Gallery, dated 1593, and the Visit of the Queen of Sheba to King Solomon, of 1599 (Dublin, National Gallery of Ireland). Giulia Bandini
Selected bibliography: Malvasia 1841, I, p. 177, n. 3; Cantaro 1989, pp. 172–173; Ferriani, in Lavinia Fontana 1994, p. 194, n. 55; Murphy 2003, pp. 93–97; Biancani, in A Tale of Two Women Painters 2019, pp. 180–181, n. 41; Brady, in Lavinia Fontana 2023, pp. 78–79, n. 24.
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Orazio Gentileschi (1563–1639) 7 — David with the Head of Goliath, 1610–1612 Oil on canvas, 173 × 142 cm Shown only in Rome Rome, Galleria Spada, inv. 155
As narrated in the first Book of Samuel (1 Sam 17:50), David, a young shepherd chosen by God to become the future king of Israel, prevailed over the giant Goliath with a sling and a stone, and then finished him off by beheading him with a sword. The biblical king is depicted here immediately after killing the huge Philistine while contemplating his already blackened head, still clutching the stone that stunned him. Painted around 1610–1612, the David with the Head of Goliath marks a significant change in Orazio Gentileschi’s career, in which the Pisan master begins a gradual if clear departure from Guido Reni’s “watered-down Caravaggism” in favour of a style of painting grounded in nature, heavily indebted to Caravaggio’s stylistic and formal solutions (Christiansen, in Orazio and Artemisia 2001, p. 102). Compared to Reni’s painting of a similar subject, datable around 1605 (Florence, Gallerie degli Uffizi), where David appears elegant, idealised and almost detached from reality, the young biblical hero in the Galleria Spada sheds all artificial refinement to take on a more concrete and everyday character. The body is not constructed according to a classical ideal, but observed from life, with attention to natural details, such as the complexion of the skin, or the rendering of the hands exposed to light. In this way, Orazio moves away from Reni’s polished grace to reaffirm the truth derived from observation, following Caravaggio’s experience, without renouncing a certain compositional balance. The final result is one of the artist’s most successful compositions, which he and his workshop would replicate on several occasions. Various examples still survive today, not all by Orazio Gentileschi himself. From the smallest but autograph version in Berlin (Staatliche Museen Preussischer Kulturbesitz, Gemäldegalerie), through the contemporary version in the Galleria Nazionale delle Marche, to the reduced adaptation on slate in the Quadreria Arcivescovile in Milan, as well as the interesting version painted on lapis lazuli in a private English collection (Cavazzini, in Arte e natura 2025, p. 162, n. V.4) the figure of David is adapted and reused on a smaller scale, retaining its formal solutions but varying its details and light effects. We know, in fact, that the painter frequently used lucidi, semi-transparent sheets that allowed drawings to be transferred onto other supports, assuring continuity between the different versions of a same subject. The circulation of the variants bears witness to an established practice, in which the repetition of the image formed an integral part of the creative process. Through this method, compositions could be preserved, adapted and replicated, while keeping their essential elements intact. This system also served an educational purpose, enabling the learning and internalisation of complex models. The ability to trace
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and transfer figures made it possible to study proportions, postures and light effects with precision, offering direct access to the master’s techniques. In this sense, the practice of tracing fits into a workshop tradition based on the practical transmission of knowledge, in which guided copying represented an essential learning tool, particularly for his young daughter Artemisia, who was making her debut at the age of seventeen in those very years with the painting of Susanna and the Elders (Pommersfelden, Graf von Schönborn collection). It comes therefore as no surprise that a copy of the canvas from the Galleria Spada, recently found in the Archdiocesan Museum in Kroměříž, Czech Republic (Zapletalovà, in Women Artists 1300–1900, 2025, pp. 106–107), has been attributed to Orazio’s daughter. The work, very similar in size to this one (152.5 × 142 cm), was certainly produced by precisely tracing the figure painted by Orazio; it is now attributed to Artemisia on the basis of an inventory record of 1691 which attests to its presence in the collections of the Bishop of Olomouc as a canvas by “Arthemio” (Zapletalovà 2023, p. 22). Although Artemisia’s practice of copying her father’s compositions is now fully attested, particularly during those formative years when she was still living with Orazio in Rome, the possibility that the Kroměříž replica was executed by Orazio himself cannot be ruled out. Whether the replica was painted by Orazio or Artemisia, the canvas in the Galleria Spada constitutes the fundamental model, whose provenance we can reconstruct with certainty, starting with its first owner, Alessandro Biffi, who, in addition to Orazio’s work, owned four paintings by Artemisia (cats. XX, XX). It then passed to the Veralli family before entering the Spada collection in 1636. Romeo Pio Cristofori
Selected bibliography: Christiansen, in Orazio and Artemisia 2001, pp. 101–104, n. 18; Vicini, in Roma al tempo di Caravaggio 2011, pp. 176–178, n. VI.6; Mann, in Artemisia Gentileschi 2016, pp. 110–111, n. 16; Leone de Castris, in Artemisia Gentileschi 2023b, pp. 62–65, n. 5; Capriotti, in Orazio Gentileschi 2025, pp. 134–135, n. IV. 17.
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Orazio Gentileschi (1563–1639) 7 — David with the Head of Goliath, 1610–1612 Oil on canvas, 173 × 142 cm Shown only in Rome Rome, Galleria Spada, inv. 155
As narrated in the first Book of Samuel (1 Sam 17:50), David, a young shepherd chosen by God to become the future king of Israel, prevailed over the giant Goliath with a sling and a stone, and then finished him off by beheading him with a sword. The biblical king is depicted here immediately after killing the huge Philistine while contemplating his already blackened head, still clutching the stone that stunned him. Painted around 1610–1612, the David with the Head of Goliath marks a significant change in Orazio Gentileschi’s career, in which the Pisan master begins a gradual if clear departure from Guido Reni’s “watered-down Caravaggism” in favour of a style of painting grounded in nature, heavily indebted to Caravaggio’s stylistic and formal solutions (Christiansen, in Orazio and Artemisia 2001, p. 102). Compared to Reni’s painting of a similar subject, datable around 1605 (Florence, Gallerie degli Uffizi), where David appears elegant, idealised and almost detached from reality, the young biblical hero in the Galleria Spada sheds all artificial refinement to take on a more concrete and everyday character. The body is not constructed according to a classical ideal, but observed from life, with attention to natural details, such as the complexion of the skin, or the rendering of the hands exposed to light. In this way, Orazio moves away from Reni’s polished grace to reaffirm the truth derived from observation, following Caravaggio’s experience, without renouncing a certain compositional balance. The final result is one of the artist’s most successful compositions, which he and his workshop would replicate on several occasions. Various examples still survive today, not all by Orazio Gentileschi himself. From the smallest but autograph version in Berlin (Staatliche Museen Preussischer Kulturbesitz, Gemäldegalerie), through the contemporary version in the Galleria Nazionale delle Marche, to the reduced adaptation on slate in the Quadreria Arcivescovile in Milan, as well as the interesting version painted on lapis lazuli in a private English collection (Cavazzini, in Arte e natura 2025, p. 162, n. V.4) the figure of David is adapted and reused on a smaller scale, retaining its formal solutions but varying its details and light effects. We know, in fact, that the painter frequently used lucidi, semi-transparent sheets that allowed drawings to be transferred onto other supports, assuring continuity between the different versions of a same subject. The circulation of the variants bears witness to an established practice, in which the repetition of the image formed an integral part of the creative process. Through this method, compositions could be preserved, adapted and replicated, while keeping their essential elements intact. This system also served an educational purpose, enabling the learning and internalisation of complex models. The ability to trace
108
and transfer figures made it possible to study proportions, postures and light effects with precision, offering direct access to the master’s techniques. In this sense, the practice of tracing fits into a workshop tradition based on the practical transmission of knowledge, in which guided copying represented an essential learning tool, particularly for his young daughter Artemisia, who was making her debut at the age of seventeen in those very years with the painting of Susanna and the Elders (Pommersfelden, Graf von Schönborn collection). It comes therefore as no surprise that a copy of the canvas from the Galleria Spada, recently found in the Archdiocesan Museum in Kroměříž, Czech Republic (Zapletalovà, in Women Artists 1300–1900, 2025, pp. 106–107), has been attributed to Orazio’s daughter. The work, very similar in size to this one (152.5 × 142 cm), was certainly produced by precisely tracing the figure painted by Orazio; it is now attributed to Artemisia on the basis of an inventory record of 1691 which attests to its presence in the collections of the Bishop of Olomouc as a canvas by “Arthemio” (Zapletalovà 2023, p. 22). Although Artemisia’s practice of copying her father’s compositions is now fully attested, particularly during those formative years when she was still living with Orazio in Rome, the possibility that the Kroměříž replica was executed by Orazio himself cannot be ruled out. Whether the replica was painted by Orazio or Artemisia, the canvas in the Galleria Spada constitutes the fundamental model, whose provenance we can reconstruct with certainty, starting with its first owner, Alessandro Biffi, who, in addition to Orazio’s work, owned four paintings by Artemisia (cats. XX, XX). It then passed to the Veralli family before entering the Spada collection in 1636. Romeo Pio Cristofori
Selected bibliography: Christiansen, in Orazio and Artemisia 2001, pp. 101–104, n. 18; Vicini, in Roma al tempo di Caravaggio 2011, pp. 176–178, n. VI.6; Mann, in Artemisia Gentileschi 2016, pp. 110–111, n. 16; Leone de Castris, in Artemisia Gentileschi 2023b, pp. 62–65, n. 5; Capriotti, in Orazio Gentileschi 2025, pp. 134–135, n. IV. 17.
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Artemisia Gentileschi (1593–1654?) 8 — Virgin and Child, c. 1610 Oil on canvas, 116.5 × 86.5 cm Shown only in Rome Rome, Galleria Spada, inv. 221
One of the first works by Artemisia Gentileschi known to us, the canvas was painted around 1610, when she was seventeen and still in Rome. As was expected of a woman, at the beginning of her career, the artist must have produced mostly portraits and small devotional works, like the Head of the Virgin of the Annunciation, recently discovered (Terzaghi, in Artemisia 2025, p. 98, n. 6). Motherless, and therefore with scant freedom of movement, Artemisia had only a limited knowledge of the Roman art world. She drew inspiration from her father Orazio’s models, from the engravings he owned, and from Caravaggio, who was on friendly terms with Orazio when she was a child. Her first biography, written in Florence before 1620 (Barker 2018) while she was living in the city, shows how keen she was to declare her dependence on the Lombard painter’s art, not on her father’s. This Virgin, barefooted and seated on a humble low chair deemed appropriate for women in seventeenth-century Italy, seems indeed to have been painted from life, following Caravaggio’s example. During Agostino Tassi’s trial for her rape in 1612, Artemisia declared to have painted her neighbour’s child “for my pleasure”; more specifically, right before the violence, the same neighbour was said to be in the room where Artemisia was painting, “seated, with the child among her legs” (Menzio [2004] 2015, p. 12). However, the impression of life-like naturalism is mistaken, as this composition was often repeated via the use of lucidi, i.e. semi-transparent papers that both the Gentileschi employed often. Light and easy to roll up, they could be effortlessly transported in the various locations where they lived, allowing them to replicate their inventions also across time. X-rays of the Virgin in the Galleria Spada have revealed an earlier configuration of the characters, more static and less emotional, similar to the lovely version that appeared in the Dorotheum auction in Vienna of 22 October 2024. At least two more variants of the canvas are known, one in the Gallerie degli Uffizi in Florence, and an unfinished one in the Pignet collection in Caën, not necessarily autograph. The Virgin, out of fatigue, has stopped nursing her child and turns towards him, while he delicately caresses her neck. The two figures are thus unified in a powerful circular arrangement, accentuated by the folds of the draperies. Their closeness to the picture plane emphasises their monumentality and their repressed energy. As Gianni Papi has repeatedly argued, this is a masterpiece of Artemisia’s early career, more profoundly emotional and more dynamic than her father’s similar compositions. Until 1992, the attribution of this canvas and of the one in the Uffizi have been much debated. However, the discovery of a short inventory, dated 1637, confirmed its autography. In that year, the Florentine Alessandro Biffi, who must have been the original owner of the work, paid his overdue rent to the Veralli family with twelve pictures,
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including this one. Through the marriage of Maria Veralli and Orazio Spada in 1636, these paintings then entered the Spada collection, and subsequently the Galleria Spada. Almost nothing is known about Biffi, but the list of his paintings shows that he favoured Caravaggesque painters and the Gentileschi in particular. He owned the large David by Orazio Gentileschi, the Saint Cecilia by Artemisia (both in the Galleria Spada, cats. XX, XX) and two small ovals on panel, representing allegories of Poetry and Painting, also attributed to her. Poetry has never been found, while Painting, known only from a photograph, seems to be a very early work. It would seem that Orazio took particular care to foster his daughter’s career, promoting her with his patrons. He was certainly aware of her extraordinary talent, as is clear from his letter written in 1612 to the dowager Grand duchess of Tuscany during the rape trial. For a painter’s daughter to become an artist was rather unusual in early seventeenth-century Rome, a city where in general there were no great artistic dynasties. Patrizia Cavazzini
Selected bibliography: Papi, in Artemisia 1991, p. 114, n. 6; Cannatà,Vicini 1992, pp. 93–94; Christiansen 2004, pp. 112–113; Whitlum-Cooper, in Artemisia 2020, p. 130, n. 7; Papi, in Caravaggio e i Caravaggeschi 2010, p. 156, n. 23; Capriotti 2024, pp. 13–26; Solinas 2024, pp. 35–50; Polignano, in Artemisia 2025, p. 104, n. 9.
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Artemisia Gentileschi (1593–1654?) 8 — Virgin and Child, c. 1610 Oil on canvas, 116.5 × 86.5 cm Shown only in Rome Rome, Galleria Spada, inv. 221
One of the first works by Artemisia Gentileschi known to us, the canvas was painted around 1610, when she was seventeen and still in Rome. As was expected of a woman, at the beginning of her career, the artist must have produced mostly portraits and small devotional works, like the Head of the Virgin of the Annunciation, recently discovered (Terzaghi, in Artemisia 2025, p. 98, n. 6). Motherless, and therefore with scant freedom of movement, Artemisia had only a limited knowledge of the Roman art world. She drew inspiration from her father Orazio’s models, from the engravings he owned, and from Caravaggio, who was on friendly terms with Orazio when she was a child. Her first biography, written in Florence before 1620 (Barker 2018) while she was living in the city, shows how keen she was to declare her dependence on the Lombard painter’s art, not on her father’s. This Virgin, barefooted and seated on a humble low chair deemed appropriate for women in seventeenth-century Italy, seems indeed to have been painted from life, following Caravaggio’s example. During Agostino Tassi’s trial for her rape in 1612, Artemisia declared to have painted her neighbour’s child “for my pleasure”; more specifically, right before the violence, the same neighbour was said to be in the room where Artemisia was painting, “seated, with the child among her legs” (Menzio [2004] 2015, p. 12). However, the impression of life-like naturalism is mistaken, as this composition was often repeated via the use of lucidi, i.e. semi-transparent papers that both the Gentileschi employed often. Light and easy to roll up, they could be effortlessly transported in the various locations where they lived, allowing them to replicate their inventions also across time. X-rays of the Virgin in the Galleria Spada have revealed an earlier configuration of the characters, more static and less emotional, similar to the lovely version that appeared in the Dorotheum auction in Vienna of 22 October 2024. At least two more variants of the canvas are known, one in the Gallerie degli Uffizi in Florence, and an unfinished one in the Pignet collection in Caën, not necessarily autograph. The Virgin, out of fatigue, has stopped nursing her child and turns towards him, while he delicately caresses her neck. The two figures are thus unified in a powerful circular arrangement, accentuated by the folds of the draperies. Their closeness to the picture plane emphasises their monumentality and their repressed energy. As Gianni Papi has repeatedly argued, this is a masterpiece of Artemisia’s early career, more profoundly emotional and more dynamic than her father’s similar compositions. Until 1992, the attribution of this canvas and of the one in the Uffizi have been much debated. However, the discovery of a short inventory, dated 1637, confirmed its autography. In that year, the Florentine Alessandro Biffi, who must have been the original owner of the work, paid his overdue rent to the Veralli family with twelve pictures,
110
including this one. Through the marriage of Maria Veralli and Orazio Spada in 1636, these paintings then entered the Spada collection, and subsequently the Galleria Spada. Almost nothing is known about Biffi, but the list of his paintings shows that he favoured Caravaggesque painters and the Gentileschi in particular. He owned the large David by Orazio Gentileschi, the Saint Cecilia by Artemisia (both in the Galleria Spada, cats. XX, XX) and two small ovals on panel, representing allegories of Poetry and Painting, also attributed to her. Poetry has never been found, while Painting, known only from a photograph, seems to be a very early work. It would seem that Orazio took particular care to foster his daughter’s career, promoting her with his patrons. He was certainly aware of her extraordinary talent, as is clear from his letter written in 1612 to the dowager Grand duchess of Tuscany during the rape trial. For a painter’s daughter to become an artist was rather unusual in early seventeenth-century Rome, a city where in general there were no great artistic dynasties. Patrizia Cavazzini
Selected bibliography: Papi, in Artemisia 1991, p. 114, n. 6; Cannatà,Vicini 1992, pp. 93–94; Christiansen 2004, pp. 112–113; Whitlum-Cooper, in Artemisia 2020, p. 130, n. 7; Papi, in Caravaggio e i Caravaggeschi 2010, p. 156, n. 23; Capriotti 2024, pp. 13–26; Solinas 2024, pp. 35–50; Polignano, in Artemisia 2025, p. 104, n. 9.
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Orazio Gentileschi (1563–1639) 9 — Judith and Her Maidservant with the Head of Holofernes, c. 1608–1612 Oil on canvas, 160 × 136 cm Oslo, Nasjonalmuseet, inv. NG.M.02073
For the Catholic Church, the Reformation and the activities of Martin Luther posed a serious threat. One of its responses to the challenge was the Council of Trent, a major gathering that was convened to clarify the doctrines and teaching of the non-reformed church. One of the decrees issued by the council recognised the importance of visual imagery in places of worship. This led to major commissions for many artists to depict specific scenes from both the Old and New Testaments. What the Church wanted was depictions of morally edifying stories, such as Judith and her Maidservant with the Head of Holofernes. Like several other artists of his time, Orazio Gentileschi also painted an interpretation of the Judith story. Subjects of this kind also offered an opportunity for artists to show their skill in rendering textiles and other decorative attire. In this work, Judith’s costume and jewellery are particularly impressive. In 1945, the painting was gifted to the National Gallery in Oslo by Anders M. Vik. Vik had purchased it from the estate of Admiral Jacob Børresen, who passed away in 1943. Until 1951, the painting was credited as a work by Caravaggio. Later, the attribution was changed to either Orazio or Artemisia Gentileschi. The debate about the authorship has been periodically revisited, most recently in 2019, when art historian Nina Gram Bischof, painting conservator Thierry Ford and art historian Gianni Papi asserted in The Burlington Magazine that the work should be given to Artemisia Gentileschi alone. Part of the basis for the attribution to Artemisia Gentileschi is her painting in the Uffizi Museum in Florence, which treats the subject in essentially the same way. As the current author has pointed out in an article in Kunst og Kultur, it is worthwhile to view the paintings by father and daughter side by side. This comparison reveals distinctions, which, I argue, make it more probable that this is the work of Orazio Gentileschi, rather than his daughter. One of the details that supports this claim is the execution of Judith’s eyes. On balance, current opinion holds that the painting was executed primarily by Orazio Gentileschi – but probably with the assistance of his daughter. Ellen J. Lerberg
Selected bibliography: Longhi 1943, p. 46, n. 38; Emiliani 1958, p. 43; Moir 1967, I, n. 10; Østby 973, pp. 346–347, n. 767; Bissell 1981, pp. 155–156, n. 27; Garrard 1989, pp. 39, 40; Nicolson 1990, I, p. 111; Artemisia 1991, n. 3; Lerberg 1993; Lange & Ljøgodt 1999, pp. 15–17; Bissell 1999, pp. 318–320, n. X-13; Orazio and Artemisia 2001, pp. 82–86, n. 13; Momesso 2007, pp. 78–81, n. 6; De Ruggieri 2016, p. 114; Papi, Bischoff & Ford 2019.
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Orazio Gentileschi (1563–1639) 9 — Judith and Her Maidservant with the Head of Holofernes, c. 1608–1612 Oil on canvas, 160 × 136 cm Oslo, Nasjonalmuseet, inv. NG.M.02073
For the Catholic Church, the Reformation and the activities of Martin Luther posed a serious threat. One of its responses to the challenge was the Council of Trent, a major gathering that was convened to clarify the doctrines and teaching of the non-reformed church. One of the decrees issued by the council recognised the importance of visual imagery in places of worship. This led to major commissions for many artists to depict specific scenes from both the Old and New Testaments. What the Church wanted was depictions of morally edifying stories, such as Judith and her Maidservant with the Head of Holofernes. Like several other artists of his time, Orazio Gentileschi also painted an interpretation of the Judith story. Subjects of this kind also offered an opportunity for artists to show their skill in rendering textiles and other decorative attire. In this work, Judith’s costume and jewellery are particularly impressive. In 1945, the painting was gifted to the National Gallery in Oslo by Anders M. Vik. Vik had purchased it from the estate of Admiral Jacob Børresen, who passed away in 1943. Until 1951, the painting was credited as a work by Caravaggio. Later, the attribution was changed to either Orazio or Artemisia Gentileschi. The debate about the authorship has been periodically revisited, most recently in 2019, when art historian Nina Gram Bischof, painting conservator Thierry Ford and art historian Gianni Papi asserted in The Burlington Magazine that the work should be given to Artemisia Gentileschi alone. Part of the basis for the attribution to Artemisia Gentileschi is her painting in the Uffizi Museum in Florence, which treats the subject in essentially the same way. As the current author has pointed out in an article in Kunst og Kultur, it is worthwhile to view the paintings by father and daughter side by side. This comparison reveals distinctions, which, I argue, make it more probable that this is the work of Orazio Gentileschi, rather than his daughter. One of the details that supports this claim is the execution of Judith’s eyes. On balance, current opinion holds that the painting was executed primarily by Orazio Gentileschi – but probably with the assistance of his daughter. Ellen J. Lerberg
Selected bibliography: Longhi 1943, p. 46, n. 38; Emiliani 1958, p. 43; Moir 1967, I, n. 10; Østby 973, pp. 346–347, n. 767; Bissell 1981, pp. 155–156, n. 27; Garrard 1989, pp. 39, 40; Nicolson 1990, I, p. 111; Artemisia 1991, n. 3; Lerberg 1993; Lange & Ljøgodt 1999, pp. 15–17; Bissell 1999, pp. 318–320, n. X-13; Orazio and Artemisia 2001, pp. 82–86, n. 13; Momesso 2007, pp. 78–81, n. 6; De Ruggieri 2016, p. 114; Papi, Bischoff & Ford 2019.
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Artemisia Gentileschi (1593–1654?) 10 — Judith and Her Maidservant with the Head of Holofernes, 1639/1640 Oil on linen, 73.2 × 92.5 × 3 cm Oslo, Nasjonalmuseet, inv. NMK.LAAN.2022.0028 Loan from Sparebankstiftelsen DNB
Born and raised in Rome, Artemisia Gentileschi was taught to paint by her father, Orazio Gentileschi (1563– 1639). In 1612, she moved to Florence, where she lived for several years. After a stay in Venice, she settled in Naples in 1629, a city she left briefly for a sojourn at the English Court. Like her father, she often chose subjects relating to the Bible or the lives of saints. She focused in particular on various female heroes and their stories. Developing her own style, she often used the chiaroscuro technique of pronounced contrasts between light and dark areas to emphasise the action in her compositions. One source of inspiration that Artemisia Gentileschi returns to repeatedly is the Book of Judith. Originally part of the Old Testament, this book was removed from the Bible of the Reformed Church. Judith is a young widow from the city of Bethulia. When the city is besieged by the Assyrians, she decides to act. Together with her maid, Abra, she visits the camp of the enemy army. Dressed in her finest clothes and jewellery, she charms the general Holofernes, who invites her to eat with him. During the meal, she encourages Holofernes to drink until he falls asleep. Seizing the moment, Judith cuts off Holofernes’s head and quietly leaves the camp. Artemisia has depicted the two women just as Judith is placing the head of Holofernes into a basket. Their attention is focused on something to the right, as if they have heard an unexpected sound. Is someone coming? Judith is wearing an elegant yellow dress decorated with jewels and exquisite earrings. Her left hand is gripped tightly around a lock of Holofernes’s hair, while in her right hand she holds a sword, resting on her shoulder. The maid Abra is more modestly dressed, and her face is marked by age. After escaping unharmed, the two women place Holofernes’s head on a pole beside the city gate. When the soldiers wake and discover their headless commander, they flee. Judith, with the help of Abra, has saved Bethulia. For the Church, such a heroic tale was part of the teachings it wished to promote and hence highly suitable as a theme for paintings. In 1611, Artemisia Gentileschi was raped by her father’s friend, Augustino Tassi. This led to a distressing trial, and various academics have drawn comparisons between Artemisia’s personal experience and her artistic interest in the story of Judith. Some have claimed that Artemisia’s portrayal of the victorious Judith is a reckoning with what she herself had to endure.
This painting appeared several times on the art market in the 1950s and early 1960s as a work by Artemisia Gentileschi. However, when the catalogue raisonnés on her oeuvre were written the location of the painting was unknown, and thus doubt was raised around its attribution. However, her signature on the sword and the comparison to other works in the 2022/2023 exhibition in Napoli on Artemisia’s work in Naples confirmed its attribution. Ellen J. Lerberg
Selected bibliography: Bissell 1968, p. 159, n. 51; Contini, in Artemisia 1991, p. 124, Bologna, in Battistello Caracciolo 1991, pp. 142, 162, fig. 146; Causa 1993, p. 26; Bissell 1999, pp. 259–260, n. 34, figs. 150–151. Artemisia 2022, pp. 154–155, n. 17.
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Inscription: “ARTEMYSIA” (on the sword).
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Artemisia Gentileschi (1593–1654?) 10 — Judith and Her Maidservant with the Head of Holofernes, 1639/1640 Oil on linen, 73.2 × 92.5 × 3 cm Oslo, Nasjonalmuseet, inv. NMK.LAAN.2022.0028 Loan from Sparebankstiftelsen DNB
Born and raised in Rome, Artemisia Gentileschi was taught to paint by her father, Orazio Gentileschi (1563– 1639). In 1612, she moved to Florence, where she lived for several years. After a stay in Venice, she settled in Naples in 1629, a city she left briefly for a sojourn at the English Court. Like her father, she often chose subjects relating to the Bible or the lives of saints. She focused in particular on various female heroes and their stories. Developing her own style, she often used the chiaroscuro technique of pronounced contrasts between light and dark areas to emphasise the action in her compositions. One source of inspiration that Artemisia Gentileschi returns to repeatedly is the Book of Judith. Originally part of the Old Testament, this book was removed from the Bible of the Reformed Church. Judith is a young widow from the city of Bethulia. When the city is besieged by the Assyrians, she decides to act. Together with her maid, Abra, she visits the camp of the enemy army. Dressed in her finest clothes and jewellery, she charms the general Holofernes, who invites her to eat with him. During the meal, she encourages Holofernes to drink until he falls asleep. Seizing the moment, Judith cuts off Holofernes’s head and quietly leaves the camp. Artemisia has depicted the two women just as Judith is placing the head of Holofernes into a basket. Their attention is focused on something to the right, as if they have heard an unexpected sound. Is someone coming? Judith is wearing an elegant yellow dress decorated with jewels and exquisite earrings. Her left hand is gripped tightly around a lock of Holofernes’s hair, while in her right hand she holds a sword, resting on her shoulder. The maid Abra is more modestly dressed, and her face is marked by age. After escaping unharmed, the two women place Holofernes’s head on a pole beside the city gate. When the soldiers wake and discover their headless commander, they flee. Judith, with the help of Abra, has saved Bethulia. For the Church, such a heroic tale was part of the teachings it wished to promote and hence highly suitable as a theme for paintings. In 1611, Artemisia Gentileschi was raped by her father’s friend, Augustino Tassi. This led to a distressing trial, and various academics have drawn comparisons between Artemisia’s personal experience and her artistic interest in the story of Judith. Some have claimed that Artemisia’s portrayal of the victorious Judith is a reckoning with what she herself had to endure.
This painting appeared several times on the art market in the 1950s and early 1960s as a work by Artemisia Gentileschi. However, when the catalogue raisonnés on her oeuvre were written the location of the painting was unknown, and thus doubt was raised around its attribution. However, her signature on the sword and the comparison to other works in the 2022/2023 exhibition in Napoli on Artemisia’s work in Naples confirmed its attribution. Ellen J. Lerberg
Selected bibliography: Bissell 1968, p. 159, n. 51; Contini, in Artemisia 1991, p. 124, Bologna, in Battistello Caracciolo 1991, pp. 142, 162, fig. 146; Causa 1993, p. 26; Bissell 1999, pp. 259–260, n. 34, figs. 150–151. Artemisia 2022, pp. 154–155, n. 17.
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Inscription: “ARTEMYSIA” (on the sword).
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