So that there was no doubt as to who had cut off Holofernes’s head, Fede Galizia (1578-1630) wrote his name on the sword, gripped with a firm gesture. The motif of Judith beheading the Assyrian general, taken from the Old Testament, was fashionable during the Baroque, especially among female artists. Artemisia Gentileschi (1593-1653) also painted the scene and also wanted to record the extent to which she identified with Judith: in the reflections of the Hebrew heroine’s bracelet the figure of the goddess Artemis appears, of whom the artist had received the name.
Artemisia Gentileschi had no shortage of reasons to take advantage of the story and vindicate herself, and where Galizia exhibited firmness she added violence: she was raped at the age of 18 by her teacher, the painter Agostino Tassi; The judicial process included humiliating interrogations in which the painter appeared to be the accused. In both cases, Galizia and Gentileschi, two now fully recognized figures, left their names clearly visible. They were not the only ones, far from it, but in the following centuries, many of those signatures would be hidden or replaced by that of another, a man of course, to increase the value of the paintings.
The signature on a work of art constitutes an exercise in personal reaffirmation, and appears at the moment when the creators begin to be aware of the value of their work and their individuality. For many years the issue of female signatures has barely been studied in comparison to that of their male counterparts; Since 1970 and linked to feminist movements, these gaps have been filled, initially with questions. When did women artists start signing their paintings at the same time as men? Did they do it with the same frequency? Are there differences between them? We analyze this aspect in connection with the ‘Maestras’ exhibition at the Thyssen-Bornemisza museum.
These are not mere details, but rather a historical tracing that sheds much (and new) light on them and their circumstances. In a recent essay focused on the 16th-17th centuries, abundant in female painters in Italy, the Netherlands, Flanders or Spain, the historian Samuel Vitali points out that, contrary to established thinking, the signatures of these artists arise from the interest of collectors in their works and, rather than an expression of self-confidence in a male-dominated world, their practice was often a reflection of their limited autonomy.
The context: the arts were reserved for women of the upper classes, as amateurs, or for the daughters or wives of other painters, who could learn them at home (studios, with naked models, were forbidden to them); In general, only the latter were the ones who developed them professionally. They were not few, and in many cases they competed successfully with their male colleagues, such as the Dutch Judith Leyster with Frans Hals, however, their dependence on men marked their destinies and careers. And that is reflected in the signatures. Because it is very common to find next to the name and date a description like that of, again, Fede Galizia, in his portrait of the Jesuit Paolo Morigia: “Virgo Pvdicissima”. A public declaration of her virginity and modesty, when the painter was 18 years old. No, male artists did not add this information. They didn’t even ask for it.
This is where the gender gap is evident; The writings that accompany the signature were usually in Latin for men and women, but the latter added information about kinship, especially about the father or husband, and modified them as their civil situation changed. The four Anguisola sisters often mentioned their father – “filia Hamilcaris” – and Sofonisba, the best known and who worked at the court of Philip II, even wrote on a portrait “coram Amilcare patre”, “painted in the presence of the father”, to guarantee the morality of the artist. Lavinia Fontana (1552-1614), daughter of a painter, went from “virgo” and her paternal mention to “Lavinia Fontana de Zappis”, after her wedding to another painter, Gian Paolo Zappi.
The location of the firm also marked gender differences; one of the baroque fashions placed them in a book or on a sheet of paper on the floor, the posterlino; However, women artists showed more imagination, such as Elisabetta Sirani (1638-1665), who signed on the straps of a dress, on the neckline, on the embroidery of a suit…
Fede Galizia, ever dramatic, in blood dripping from Holofernes’ head into a sack in another version of this scene, and Lavinia Fontana on a chess board. Female signatures are also more visible than those of male artists, and in many more cases than them the word “ego” appears followed by “fecit” or “feciebat”, that is, “I did it”, with the name of the painter, to highlight her authorship.
Empowerment? Let’s not go too fast: rather that was what it was about, authenticating the painting at a time when the skill of female artists in general was questioned. As it would continue to be for many centuries.
Report elaborated with the essay “Iussu patris? Prolegomena on Form and Function of Women Artists’ Signatures in the Early Modern Period”, by Samuel Vitali
Teachers. Thyssen-Bornemisza Museum. Madrid. Commissioner: Rocío de la Villa. museothyssen.org. From October 31 to February 4.
