Harper Haase Essay I
Harper Haase
AH 401: Gender, Art, and Western Civilization
10/12/2020
Art history is primarily focused around men, as is the rest of art and frankly, the rest of the world. Therefore success in this industry is tailored for privileged white men. Despite this predetermined fate of female artists, there have been women throughout history who challenge and (somewhat) overcome the artistic oppression of the patriarchy. One of these ‘force of nature’ women, as I like to call them, was Elisabetta Sirani. Sirani was a Baroque painter who was highly established in the art world despite her early and mysterious death at the age of 27. She became a professional painter by the age of 17, mostly as a result of her father’s painting background and encouragement from her mentor and biographer, Carlo Malvasia.[1] Before her early death, Elisabetta created over 200 paintings, ten etchings, and various drawings, many of which are truly astounding works that depict some type of heroine.[2] She also established the first painting academy for women in Bologna. “Her studio became an obligatory stop for visitors of thecity… Bolognese noblewomen, among her patrons, frequented the studio and sent their daughters to study in the painting academy for women, the first of its kind.”[3] Elisabetta Sirani’s heroic women pose as a historical mirror for her own strength. She is a feminist artist at the core and her feminine strength is overtly apparent in her work.
One of Elisabetta Sirani’s more exemplified pieces of work is Elisabetta Sirani, Portia Wounding Her Thigh (1664). This painting is a Baroque depiction of the story of Portia and Brutus. It is an oil on canvas painted for Simone Tassi, a business man from Bologna who had five paintings from Elisabetta Sirani, though Portia Wounding Her Thigh was the most valuable in his collection. Tassi had multiple paintings depicting strong female heroine figures, one of which was Giovanni Andrea Sirani, Semiramis which is now lost. It was likely a companion piece to Portia Wounding Her Thigh.[4]
In Elisabetta Sirani’s Portia Wounding Her Thigh, Portia is dressed in a Baroque era dress, reflective of Sirani’s period rather than Portia’s. She has a gold sash across her body and many adornments in her hair. In the background, we see a gathering of women weaving and gossiping. The subject is very clearly separated from this gathering-- as Portia stabs herself to protect her life, the rest of the women engage in much more frivolous activities. Portia is opposite to the women in the back—serious about proving her alliance while the women behind her could not care less about proving themselves to the men. Rich shades of red flood this painting: Portia’s billowing dress, the chair on which she props her leg, her lips, hues from the ladies in the background, and most importantly the drops of blood on her leg. Elisabetta’s use of red highlights Portia’s blood; a physical and visual sign of allegiance and sacrifice to prove herself to the men plotting to kill Caesar. We also see lots of gold in the foreground while the ladies in back lack this luxury. This may be a result of her marriage to Brutus. However, it also suggests that her allegiance to the men rather than the women makes her more worthy. By separating herself from the feminine, she is supposedly respected and deserving of these luxuries. Elisabetta incorporates this suggestion in her painting only to challenge it—Portia separates herself from the feminine activities yet her dress and jewelry creates a very feminine image. Babette Bohn touches on this aspect of the painting. She notes “Sirani’s juxtaposition of her heroine with more ordinary women rather than her husband calls attention to the remarkable coexistence of Portia’s femininity and fortitude.” [5] Bohn brings the absence of Brutus to attention here as well. Not only does Elisabetta Sirani isolate Portia from the other women, but she also allows her to be feminine without a man’s presence. Instead of contrasting female and male, she contrasts female hero with female ordinary. Elisabetta challenges the notion that only masculine women can be strong by giving Portia a very feminine look as she performs a very serious act.
Portia holds a dagger above her already bloody leg, allowing for the assumption that this painting captures a moment just after wounding herself. However, the way Portia holds the dagger and regards her wound insinuates that she may be preparing to cut herself again. She stands in a position of power and holds herself in strength. In her left hand we can see an object. It looks like it may be the holder for the tool she is using to wound herself. Portia looks very calm about this ordeal. She is hurting herself, but there is no visible reaction to the pain she feels. Elisabetta Sirani had a tendency to create paintings depicting heroine figures, so this painting certainly aligns with her typical style and themes. However, most pictures of Portia depict her suicide, a drama-filled death where she swallowed hot coals.[6] Elisabetta instead chose to paint the story of Portia wounding herself rather than painting her suicide, an unexpected twist considering the typical Portia depictions within art history.
Furthermore, she show’s Portia in Baroque clothes rather than clothes of her own time, an expected yet thoughtful choice on Elisabetta’s behalf. By showing Portia in Baroque dress, Elisabetta draws a personal connection to her own virtue reflected in this painting. This choice of dress combined with the dramatic lighting and the realistic textures and patterns reflects the Baroque period as well as Elisabetta’s high skill level.[7] Elisabetta proves herself, similarly to how Portia must prove herself, by showcasing her exceptional skill level.
The history behind this painting is the story of Portia Catonis, the wife of Brutus. She suspected that her husband was hiding a grave secret from her. She learned that he was planning to kill Caesar, a secret that a woman would never be entrusted with during that time. To prove herself to the men who planned to kill Casesar, Portia wounds her own thigh. She suffers a fever for a day following, and when she recovers she shows the men that she can endure pain without breaking her spirit. Portia knows that this was the only way to gain the full trust of her husband because it proves that she cannot be broken with pain or torture.[8] Portia’s choice to inflict pain on herself speaks volumes about her character as well as the nature of the way women were expected to behave. Portia must completely isolate herself from the trivialities of feminine life such as gossiping and spinning. She also is not shown with her husband, a note to her strength and independence both from her marriage and from the typical life of a woman. Furthermore, she must go to such extreme measures as inflicting torture on herself simply to be trusted as the men were. Elisabetta painted this image with the full intention of telling Portia’s story and reflecting her own. Women have always had to be extraordinary in order to reach the status that ordinary men achieve. This is reflected in another sense where Portia had to go to extremes to prove her loyalty while the men were trusted simply by pledging their loyalty.
Portia Wounding Her Thigh, along with many other works by Elisabetta Sirani, has a very rich history. At her core, Sirani was a historical painter. Only fifteen of over 200 paintings that she did were portraits. According to Brohn, “Religious subjects compromised the largest category of her paintings, some 69 percent… seventeen percent of her pictures portrayed allegories and subjects from classical history and mythology.”[9] Women in this era were not typically painters, however Bologna was very progressive on that issue. If women were painters, they were expected to primarily focus on portraits—Elisabetta defied both these confinements. Her focus on historical heroines, specifically Portia Wounding Her Thigh, is a reflection of Elisabetta herself. The themes that this painting portray reflect feminine bravery and strength. Portia knows that her fate was predetermined when she found out about the secret, so she took it upon herself to change her fate. Elisabetta mirrors Portia’s fortitude in her own life: despite having her integrity doubted, society rooting against women, and her early death, she took it upon herself to create her own legacy. Similar to Portia, Elisabetta took control of her life instead of letting life take control of her. When every force imaginable was trying to control them, both Portia and Elisabetta took the harder yet more dignified road and decided their own worth. Centuries later, we still study Elisabetta’s works. In each story, Elisabetta and Elisabetta’s Portia Wounding Her Thigh, the subjects made life their bitch and left their mark on history forever.
[1] Laura Jacobus, “Elisabetta Sirani” (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 2.
[2] Babette Bohn, “The Antique Heroes of Elisabetta Sirani,” ed. Nourma Broude and Mary D. Garrard in Reclaiming Female Agency: Feminist Art History After Postmodernism (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005), 81.
[3] Adelina Modesti, Elisabetta Sirani ‘Virtuosa’: Women’s Cultural Production in Early Modern Bologna (Brussels: Brepol, 2014), 67.
[4] Babette Bohn, “The Antique Heroes of Elisabetta Sirani,” ed. Nourma Broude and Mary D. Garrard in Reclaiming Female Agency: Feminist Art History After Postmodernism (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005), 88.
[5] Babette Bohn, “The Antique Heroes of Elisabetta Sirani,” ed. Nourma Broude and Mary D. Garrard in Reclaiming Female Agency: Feminist Art History After Postmodernism (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005), 89.
[6] Julia Griffin, “Cato’s Daughter, Brutus’s Wife: Portia Agonistes” ed. Lilla Maria Crisafulli in Textus, English Studies in Italy (Italy: Carocci editore, 2012), 21 https://www.rivisteweb.it/doi/10.7370/86640 .
[7] Spacelyss, Italian Women, Art, and Feminism (Spacelyss, 2016) https://spacelyss.wordpress.com/2016/03/05/italian-women-art-and-feminism/ .
[8] “Notes” in Lot 44: u - Elisabetta Sirani , Bologna 1638 - 1665 Portia Wounding her Thigh oil on canvas (New York: Sotheby’s, 2008) invaluable.com/auction-lot/u-elisabetta-sirani-bologna-1638-1665-portia-woun-44-c-pnuyjp30dh# .
[9] Babette Bohn, “The Antique Heroes of Elisabetta Sirani,” ed. Nourma Broude and Mary D. Garrard in Reclaiming Female Agency: Feminist Art History After Postmodernism (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005), 85.
