Professor Butter Beard and Artemisia’s “Self Portrait as the Allegory of Painting”

Artemisia Gentileschi (Italian: July 8, 1593 – c. 1656), “Self-Portrait as the Allegory of Painting,” c. 1638, Oil on canvas, Royal Collection, London.

“I will show Your Illustrious Lordship what a woman can do. With me, Your Illustrious Lordship will not lose, and you will find the spirit of Caesar in the soul of a woman.” – Artemisia Gentileschi, writing to Don Antonio Ruffo, 1649.

I spent last week with three fearless, ferocious and fabulous female actors, all of whom I am honored to call “friend.” As the kickoff to the Stone Church Players’ seventeenth season, I directed a staged reading of “Agnes of God,” written in 1979 by John Pielmeier, which tells the story of a novice nun who gives birth but does not believe she has. After the child is found dead, an emotionally scarred psychiatrist and a surprisingly earthly Mother Superior clash during the resulting investigation. These three actresses chomped into their roles, providing a depth of complete understanding of character and connection with each other - with only three rehearsals before opening night.

Their performances reminded me of one of my favorite quotes - one most often recited during my own private meditations: “Courage is feeling fear, not getting rid of fear, and taking action in the face of fear,” written by Roy T. Bennett, in his “The Light of the Heart.”

“Taking action in the face of fear…..” This mantra also brought to mind the ferociously talented artist Artemisia Gentileschi as she commanded attention within a century dominated by males.

According to her birth certificate, Artemisia was born in Rome on July 8th, 1593. She was the eldest child of Prudenzia di Ottaviano Montoni and the Tuscan painter Orazio Gentileschi, a painter from Pisa. After Orazio’s arrival in Rome, his painting reached its expressive peak, taking inspiration from the innovations of Caravaggio, from whom he derived the habit of painting real models, without idealizing or sweetening them, transfiguring them into figures of powerful and realistic drama.

Artemisia was primarily raised by her father following the death of her mother in 1605. It was likely at this time that Artemisia approached painting, learning a thorough knowledge of pigments and paint preparation in her father's workshop. By 1612, aged 18, Artemisia was known for her exemplary talents, with her father boasting that, despite having only practiced painting for three years, Artemisia was “peerless.”

And then came the unthinkable. That same year, Agostino Tassi, an artist she worked with at the time, entered her studio, violently snatching her palette and brushes from her hands as he shouted, “Not so much painting, not so much painting,” before raping her. In the struggle, she managed to deeply injure him with a palette knife. Tassi was taken to court, and the trial was documented in a 300-page long transcript which brutely describes how, during the interrogation, Artemesia’s fingers were strapped into a “sibille,” a device made of metal and rope that was tightened during the questioning to insure she spoke the truth.

The transcript also describes how Artemesia stayed strong to the truth while enduring the torture, leading to Tassi’s conviction and exile from Rome. Artemesia returned to painting, depicting historically strong women who took action, establishing control and asserting their place. Women with strong hands that hold tools, weapons, or even the severed heads of their victims.

Twenty-five years after the rape, Artemesia painted one of the most expressive self-portraits to date. She portrays herself in the act of beginning a painting. Her pose is one of full movement, with her arms forming a semi-circle, occupying almost all the pictorial space. Her right arm arches at the upper edge of the painting as she visualizes her internal story, capturing it on the unseen canvas.

Alexandra Loske writes, “What matters more here than her identifiable colors, is the symbolic placing of the painter’s tools. Both the square palette and the grinding stone are horizonal shapes that contrast with the vigor and movement of the figure. They form the visual and metaphorical stage that this artist has claimed and mastered.”

Artemesia had conquered her fear and regained her confidence as an artist, reclaiming the tools of her profession that Tassi had so horrifyingly torn from her when she was just a teenager.

I bore this lesson in mind as I stepped into my kitchen at daybreak this morning. For weeks now, I have been dreaming of, and mentally constructing, a new recipe for a dark chocolate sourdough loaf. I imagined a multitude of flavor combinations, different flours and sweeteners, and the design of the finished “canvas.” I was stalling, in fear of failure, and a potential waste of precious ingredients. With Artemisia, and those three ferocious actors in mind, I opened the cupboards and followed through with last night’s recipe dream. And now the kitchen smells like a bit of Easter chocolate heaven on a sunlit morning in Bruges.

“Beware; for I am fearless, and therefore powerful.” – Mary Shelley, “Frankenstein”

Dark Chocolate and Dried Cherry Sourdough Loaf

One 9” round

  • ½ cup dried sweet cherries

  • Apple cider to cover (the cherries)

  • 2 Tbsp canola oil, slightly warmed in the microwave

  • 2 Tbsp dark cocoa powder

  • 1 ½ cups slightly warm water (1 3/4 cups, if not adding your sourdough starter)

  • 2 Tbsp honey

  • ½ tsp instant dry yeast

  • ½ cup of your sourdough starter (optional)

  • 3 ½ cups bread flour

  • 2 tsp fine sea salt

  • ½ cup dark chocolate chips

1)     Soak the dried cherries overnight in just enough apple cider (or water) to cover.

2)     The morning of your bake: In a small bowl, whisk together the warm oil and the cocoa powder. Set aside to fully bloom.

3)     Whisk together the warm water, honey, dry yeast and your starter (optional). Set aside for at least ten minutes to bloom the yeast.

4)     In a standing mixer with the dough hook, stir together the flour and salt. Add the wet mixture and mix on low until the wet and dry are incorporated. Turn the mixture to medium and knead for ten minutes or so until the dough is soft and elastic. Listen for the “whack” sounds of the dough slapping the edge of the bowl. Add the cocoa/oil mixture and mix until evenly incorporated. Turn the dough into a greased glass bowl, cover with plastic and set aside to rise to double in size. This will take anywhere from 2-3 hours.

5)     Turn the dough onto a lightly floured surface and form into a smooth ball. Fully drain the cherries from their soaking liquid and lightly knead the cherries and chocolate chips into the dough. Form the dough into a smooth ball.

6)     Lightly flour a proofing basket and turn the dough into the basket, cover with plastic and let rise again for one hour while you preheat your oven to 400 degrees.

7)     After 45 minutes of preheating and 2nd rise, place your baking sheet in the oven to also preheat. Cut a 12” square of parchment paper and dust lightly with cornmeal. Carefully turn the dough onto the parchment paper. Dust off any excess flour. Score the dough with a razor. Carefully remove the heated sheet pan from the oven and slide the parchment paper and dough onto the pan. Place in the oven and bake for 45-50 minutes until the loaf is a deep golden brown and sounds hollow to the touch.

8)     Cool on a wire rack for at least 30 minutes before slicing.

Artemisia Gentileschi (Italian: July 8, 1593 – c. 1656), “Self-Portrait as a Lute Player,” c. 1615–1617, Oil on canvas, Wadsworth Atheneum, Hartford, Connecticut

Artemisia Gentileschi (Italian: July 8, 1593 – c. 1656), “Judith Slaying Holofernes,” 1614–1620, Oil on canvas, Galleria degli Uffizi, Florence

Artemisia Gentileschi (Italian: July 8, 1593 – c. 1656), “Judith and Her Maidservant,” 1613–14, Oil on canvas, Palazzo Pitti, Florence.

Artemisia Gentileschi (Italian: July 8, 1593 – c. 1656), “Samson and Delilah,” c. 1630, Oil on canvas, Palazzo Zevallos Stigliano, Naples, Italy.

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