Thoughts on a Portrait

'Self-Portrait as the Allegory of Painting' Artemisia Gentileschi


It's such an arresting image - the artist lost in her work, staring intently at her painting, probably scrutinising an eye that doesn't look quite in the right direction, or a curl of the lip not adequately expressed.

Artists like to picture themselves at work, but particularly the female ones it seems. It's as if to say 'yep, it's really me doing the painting - I'm not the muse here, or some prostitute dragged in to model, or the wife of someone important. I am the doer.' But in no portrait, male or female is this spirit of 'doing' more self-evident than in the ' Self-Portrait as Allegory of Painting', by Artemisia Gentileschi. Most at least interrupt their studies at the canvas to gaze at the viewer, which, let us be honest here, is really a mirror. But admire the set-up that allowed the artist to portray herself at that angle, on her side, half from above. Even setting up a camera to capture that angle proved a challenge and one that I still failed to quite get right when trying to recreate the image. Doing that from mirrors must have presented myraid challenges.

Perhaps the intensity of concentration is intended to convey her seriousness. No cosseted daughter of the aristocracy lies before you, painting just to show off her accomplishment. This is a woman serious about her painting and intent on letting you know that too. You are not meant to admire her skill in dressing, or her fine headgear or elegant jewellery. Her hair is messy, unstyled and falling loose around her face; there's the hint of a sheen of sweat on her face. She's too involved to look up, or acknowledge the viewer.

It stands out when seen in the context of an art gallery - in this case, the Cumberland Art Gallery at Hampton Court Palace, surrounded by other figures and portraits. It strives to be different, to prove something. It doesn't sit back on its laurels, knowing that it's good enough. It grabs your attention by being different to the rest, like the lone female in a room full of chaps.




'Self Portrait as an Allegory of Artemisia' Vicki Cooke 2015
Currently on display at Hogarth House, Chiswick, til March '15

Then and now

As this is the first post, perhaps I should briefly introduce myself and this project.  I have been researching the lives and works of female artists, initially focussed on the late Renaissence to the mid 1800s. I have been making a series of works in response to this (www.vickicooke.com) and this blog hopes to capture some of my thoughts during the process.

I have spent a lot of time looking at the lives and struggles of women artists from the past, and wondering how much of this is relevent to women working today.  Women now are very much a feature of the art world and there are many famous names one could use to back up the hypothesis that there are now equal opportunities for men and women in the arts.  However, this data piece from the Guardian website on women's representation in the art world shows up many of the disparities that still exist.

No. of women artists in the top 100 sellers at Sotheby's - 0

Percentage of public art commissions by women - 14%

Percentage of women artists represented in the Tate Modern - 17%

Perhaps hidden behind the headline-grabbing famous names, the same gender barriers persist.  The women artists of the past were often famous in their lifetimes, feted by critics and commissioned by royalty.  Sofonisba Anguissola was headhunted by the King of Spain to be his official court painter, Judith Leyster ran a successful and well respected studio and Angelika Kauffman was one of the original Royal Academicians.  However, they have slipped into obscurity as time passed and their names are barely known by audiences today.  

How do we know that this will not be the fate of today's women artists?  In 200 years time, will researchers be painstakingly trying to piece together the life and work of Rachel Whiteread and Cornelia Parker, based on a few surviving fragments?

Fragment: Chiara Varotari, Vicki Cooke, 2013