Musée Jacquemart-André, Paris, 19th March–3rd August 

At a time when many art museums are reluctant to organise exhibitions of Early Modern art for fear of low attendance, it is perhaps reassuring that Artemisia Gentileschi (1593– c.1656) has become a name with proven visitor appeal. Over the last ten years, there have been numerous retrospectives and exhibitions that include her work.[1] This show is organised thematically and includes thirty-nine works – twenty-six of which are attributed to Artemisia – divided between eight rooms. It begins with the period of 1638–39, after Artemisia joined her father Orazio (1563–1639) in London, where he had stayed since 1626, and presents a somewhat confusing juxtaposition of their work, since each of the four paintings (two by Artemisia, two by Orazio) comes from a different period of their careers, and not necessarily from moments when they were in contact. These comparisons are intended to demonstrate that their styles converged in the late 1630s, although to this reviewer those correspondences are not evident. Mounted above the paintings is a reproduction of the ceiling (c.1638; Marlborough House, London) painted for the Queen’s House, Greenwich, on which they probably collaborated. The subsequent rooms address Artemisia’s training by her father, her relationship to Caravaggio, her rapid development during her Florentine period, her portraits and central themes in her work.[2]  

It should be acknowledged that the curators, Patrizia Cavazzini, Maria Cristina Terzaghi and Pierre Curie, were working with a challenging space for Baroque pictures. Small rooms and low ceilings make it impossible to display in optimal conditions large paintings such as Judith and her maid with the head of Holofernes (c.1640–42; Musée des explorations du monde, Cannes; cat. no.37), not least because they make sympathetic lighting difficult. Nonetheless there are several highlights. The fourth room, titled ‘Affirmation of Self’, offers an opportunity to closely examine the newly cleaned canvas Allegory of inclination (no.16; Fig.19) from the ceiling of the Casa Buonarroti, Florence. It is a masterful treatment of the human form and, as Patrizia Cavazzini argues in the catalogue, probably a crypto-portrait. The figure was originally shown completely nude; the drapery was added by Baldassare Franceschini, called Il Volterrano (1611– 90). The curators emphasise that this was an audacious move, and although they are not the first to point this out, in the exhibition it demonstrates the strength of Artemisia’s character. The work’s juxtaposition with Francesco Bianchi Buonavita’s Allegory of genius (c.1616–17; Casa Buonarroti; no.17) is simple but effective, allowing the sophistication of Artemisia’s pose to be fully appreciated. Also on display here, is a copy of what is perhaps Artemisia’s most well-known work, Judith beheading Holofernes (17th century; Pinacoteca Nazionale di Bologna; no.38). Although it is hard to imagine an Artemisia exhibition without the version of this work in the Museo e Real Bosco di Capodimonte, Naples (c.1612–12), or that in Gallerie degli Uffizi, Florence (c.1620) – both of which were probably unavailable due to loan constraints – the decision to include a later copy supports the idea of the artist coming into her own by demonstrating the fame and desirability of that image. 

The room devoted to Artemisia’s portraiture is, arguably, the high point of the exhibition. Six works are on display, including the Self-portrait as a lutist (1614–15; Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art, Hartford; no.18). There are also two new attributions on public view for the first time, a magnificent signed portrait of a Knight of the Order of St Stephen (c.1619–20; private collection; no.21), and a head of a woman (1626–27; private collection; no.20). Although attractive, the woman’s physiognomy and the treatment of the drapery do not conform to this reviewer’s understanding of Artemisia’s work. The portrait of a knight of the Order of Saints Maurice and Lazarus (1622; Collezioni Comunali d’Arte, Bologna; no.22) is hung alongside a male portrait (no.23; Fig.20), identified in the exhibition as Antoine de Ville, a military engineer and knight. Artemisia here demonstrates her mastery of representing the nuances of male power, juxtaposing the tentative placement of the knight’s right hand with De Ville’s assertive elbow akimbo. The best work in the gallery is the magnificent portrait of a woman with a fan (c.1620–25; private collection; no.19), notable for its details of costume and jewellery as well as the commanding hand gesture. Another valuable grouping includes Clio, muse of history (1632; Palazzo Blu, Pisa; no.29), a newly discovered St John the Baptist in the desert (1630s; private collection; no.30), and Minerva (c.1635– 39; Gallerie degli Uffizi, Florence; no.31). All are variations on the same basic form, and together they confirm Artemisia’s use of drawings and tracings to transfer poses and profiles from one figure to another. 

On display in the second room, titled ‘Between Parentage and Emancipation’, are six paintings, which document Artemisia’s emergence from Orazio’s workshop. His influence is demonstrated by a common compositional model, used for her Susanna (1610; Kunstsammlungen Graf von Schönborn, Pommersfelden; no.7) and his David (c.1605–07; National Gallery of Ireland, Dublin; no.8). Orazio’s Judith and her maidservant (c.1612; Museo de Bellas Artes de Bilbao; no.10), hung beside Artemesia’s painting of the same subject (c.1615; Uffizi; no.11), shows that she learned from her father yet put her own spin on the subject by drawing the two figures together to heighten the drama and emphasise their shared mission. The room includes a Virgin from the Annunciation (1609–10; private collection; no.6), which seems to this reviewer to be the work of Orazio, since it recalls the angelic profiles and hairstyles in his early altarpieces, such as the Baptism of Christ (1607; S. Maria della Pace, Rome). 

The third room, ‘Artemisia, Caravaggesque Painter’, uses the Danaë (c.1612; Saint Louis Art Museum; no.15) to make the case for Caravaggio’s influence, an odd choice given its mastery of the female nude, a type not found in the older artist’s extant work. Danaë and her maid do not emerge from the shadows as they would in a work by Caravaggio, represented in the exhibition by the Crowning with thorns (c.1605; private collection; no.12). The Danaë certainly does not accord with the rather cavalier attitude to anatomy that is often evident in Caravaggio’s work, particularly in the misshapen right shoulder of the soldier in the lower left of the Crowning. This room also includes a David with the head of Goliath (1610s; Royal Museum of Fine Arts, Antwerp; no.14), first attributed to Artemisia in 2017, which to this reviewer does not appear autograph due to its uncharacteristic physiognomy. 

Towards the end of the exhibition, the section titled ‘Heroines and Heroes’, includes a small copper painting depicting a sleeping child, referred to here as a Sleeping cupid or Allegory of death (1620s; private collection; no.28). This is its first appearance in public. It is a refined version of a signed composition bought in 2022 by the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston (1630–32), where it is titled Sleeping Christ Child. Possibly intended as a gift for a potential future patron, it became a popular image, something underscored by the existence of the Sleeping cupid. Another new attribution, a Mary Magdalene (c.1625–30; private collection; no.26) that is currently on the art market, does not conform to Artemisia’s style in the handling of the drapery, which has a surface softness not found in autograph works such as the Penitent Magdalene (no.25; Fig.21), shown alongside it. That work, which was recognised as an autograph copy when it was included in the exhibition that travelled from Rome to New York and St Louis in 2001–02, testifies to Artemisia’s powers of innovation.[3] The saint appears lost in remorse, her teary demeanour and fingers intertwined in her hair making a powerful allusion to her struggle. Unfortunately, the wall text does not explain that the Seville painting is one of three versions of this composition: there is a later copy from after 1625 in the Museo Soumaya, Mexico City; the primary version was recently purchased by the Kimbell Art Museum, Fort Worth. It demonstrates the popularity of Artemisia’s composition. 

The final room, ‘Love and Death’, brings together heroines who resisted male domination: Judith, Cleopatra and Yael. It is the weakest in the show and a low note to end on, given the sometimes unattractive features of some of the protagonists and the fact that half of the pictures are not widely accepted. As the catalogue entry explains, the full-length Cleopatra (c.1639–40; private collection; no.35), has been attributed to Artemisia’s London period by Terzaghi, who detects in it an elegance typical of British courtly painting at the time. A second Cleopatra (c.1630–35; private collection; no.36), although accepted by Raymond Ward Bissell in 1999, does not appear autograph to this reviewer given the profusion of small folds in the golden drapery of the gown and the heavy-handed definition of folds in the white linen undergarment.[4] The Tarquin and Lucretia (c.1626–30; Stiftung Preussische Schlösser und Gärten Berlin-Brandenburg, Potsdam; no.34), which was meant to be included in this section but was unable to travel to Paris, would have been a valued addition given its narrative power and the commanding naturalism with which it presents the female form.[5] It is, however, included in the helpful accompanying catalogue, which contains entries for each work and essays by each of the exhibition’s curators, as well as a contribution on Artemisia’s techniques and the cleaning of the Achilles (c.1640; private collection; no.3) by Claudio Falcucci and Marta Variali.

[1] See, recently, Artemisia Gentileschi in Naples, Naples (Gallerie d’Italia) 2022, reviewed by Raffaella Morselli in this Magazine, 165 (2022), pp.317–20; Artemisia, London (National Gallery) 2020–21, reviewed by Aoife Brady in this Magazine, 163 (2021), pp.168–71; and Artemisia Gentileschi, Rome (Palazzo Braschi) 2017, reviewed by Gianni Papi in this Magazine, pp.242–44. 

[2] Catalogue: Artemisia: Héroïne de l’art. Edited by Patrizia Cavazzini, Maria Cristina Terzaghi and Pierre Curie. 208 pp. incl. numerous col. ills. (Fonds Mercator, Brussels, 2025), €40. ISBN 978–94–6230–393–5. 

[3] Reviewed by Helen Langdon in this Magazine, 144 (2002), pp.318–21. 

[4] See R.W. Bissell: Artemisia Gentileschi and the Authority of Art, University Park 1999, reviewed by Gianni Papi in this Magazine, 142 (2000), pp.450–53. 

[5] For the attribution of the Tarquin and Lucretia to Artemisia, see F. Windt: ‘Two paintings by Artemisia Gentileschi in the Potsdam collection of Frederick the Great’, THE BURLINGTON MAGAZINE 167 (2025), pp.115–25.