The National Gallery in London is one of the most captivating art museums I have ever had the pleasure of witnessing. The gallery plays host to countless accomplished artists such as Claude Monet and Vincent Van Gogh. Its halls are vast and towering with enough beautiful architecture to be considered even greater than the art held within. The first paintings I came across were incredibly realistic portraits painted in the 1500s. The portraits were like a glimpse into the life of people that I had no chance of knowing, yet through the canvas I found myself imagining what their lives were like and who they loved. There were many women featured in the portraits, which I loved. These women weren’t painted to be dainty, either. They were shown to be strong and towering with a striking gaze. I found myself empowered by these women who lived so many years before I was even a whisper in this universe. I wonder if their spirits feel those who are touched by their portraits. Do they know that they are honored by those who witness their likeness? I hope so.
The first portrait that struck me was painted by artist Lorenzo Lotto around 1530.
It is titled “Portrait of a Woman inspired by Lucretia” and depicts a seemingly Venetian noblewoman holding an image. The image in the portrait is that of the heroine Lucretia who killed herself after being raped and left a note in Latin containing her last words. It is said that Lucretia was a common example of the virtue of a woman. The woman painted, however, has her bust exposed and her wedding chain is stuffed down her bodice. This contrast to the “virtuous” image of Lucretia mixed with her intense gaze is haunting. It is almost like she is taunting any man who dare trifle with her or show one ounce of contempt. She is in complete control of her audience, ready to strike down any man who challenge her. In a time where women were often overlooked, this painting is especially unique and powerful.
A painting that I thought had very similar vibes to the previous one was a portrait of the heroine Judith, (or possibly Salome?), painted by Sebastiano del Piombo in 1510.
The portrait contains the image of Judith holding the head of the Assyrian general Holofernes who had threatened her and her people. If it is Salome, it is John the Baptist’s head that she is holding. Whether Judith or Salome, the image is incredibly haunting, and I was completely transfixed by her gaze. The eyes are said to be the window into the soul, and her eyes indicate that her soul has been battered and broken by life, yet she stands victorious. Whether she is correct or not in her actions of having this man killed and holding his severed head on a platter, one thing is crystal clear: she is a woman who holds incredible power. Her gaze seems like a warning. I would dare say she didn’t want to commit this act, but the actions of men have forced her hand.
The two paintings are completely separate in content; however, their messages are similar. Both of these women held an inner strength that is expertly translated by their artists. Their eyes speak of tragedy-induced power that should be feared by any man. As a woman myself, I look up to the women in these paintings. I mourn for their hardships in the unforgiving world of men. I commend them for their strength. Their eyes will forever live in my mind and heart as a reminder: hold your ground against those who seek to harm you.
Until the next time,
Dru
Theatre in London U of A 