It’s All Relative: How Caravaggio and Gentileschi Paint Themselves into Judith’s Narrative
By Serena Weil
Both Caravaggio’s Judith Beheading Holofernes (1598-1599) and Artemisia Gentileschi’s Judith and Maidservant with Head of Holofernes (1623-1625) depict the biblical myth of Judith and Holofernes. In the story, Holofernes is a general who comes to take over Judith’s town. Judith seduces him and gets him drunk enough to fall asleep, at which moment she and her maidservant behead him. Within the trope of heroism in the Bible, Judith is the sole woman with such a tale attributed to her name. Similarly, Artemisia Gentileschi is the sole female painter of her era with a story that tends to precede her artistic accolades. The paintings reflect their creators in revealing ways, accentuating toxic masculinity and interrupted womanhood in different ways depending on their own experiences with brutality.
In Caravaggio’s 1598-1599 work Judith Beheading Holofernes, the biblical story is told in rigorous detail. Perhaps the most curious is the expression on each of the three faces. There is a very formal element to this painting, a stiffness that even affects the personalities of the story. Holofernes gasps in anguish, his face frozen, his dramatically muscular arms made weak by the stab wound. He gushes blood that looks more like yarn or even silly string. It is only slightly brighter than the red curtain draped behind the scene, causing a cartoonish appearance. The curtain gives the impression of having been hung there with discerning purpose, as if Caravaggio spent a few extra moments deciding and nitpicking whether it was worthy of being the backdrop. On the right side of the image, Judith leans away as the sword in her hand pierces Holofernes’s neck. She is depicted as a young, probably teenaged, and delicate girl. Her body is stiff and her face appears just as puzzled as to why she is there as she is repulsed by the gush of blood. The expression would match that of a young girl learning how to knit a scarf, not slaying a man. Judith’s frail, wrinkled, elderly maidservant peeks in from the edge of the painting, glaring hard at Holofernes.
Nearly 25 years later, Artemisia Gentileschi painted Judith and Maidservant with Head of Holofernes (1623-1625) to tell the tale of the moments after the beheading. Gentileschi was well aware of Caravaggio’s work through her father. Her stylistic prowess allows for a completely different voice telling the story. In this version, Judith and her Maidservant are closer in age. Without the context of Gentileschi’s Judith Slaying Holofernes (1612-1613), it is difficult to discern who is who without the indication of the servant’s headcovering. Both women look strong, supple, and healthy. They are protecting each other as the maidservant wraps the head, and Judith protects their privacy. Their gazes are soft, confident and calm.
The three most important differences between the two paintings are the shadow, the depiction of women, and the painters themselves. Caravaggio escaped when he was accused of murder. Between the flattening, caricature-like effect of the lighting, the unnecessary emphasis on male muscles, and the depiction of the story’s heroes as frail and small, Caravaggio reveals how he connects with the myth. He sees himself as Holofernes, afraid of being caught. Therefore the fake-looking blood does not reflect a lack of painterly skill, but a real discomfort with a story that he can see himself in, a story in which he loses.
Caravaggio’s murder accusation is rarely discussed in comparison to the story of the rape of Artemisia Gentileschi, one which she canonically cannot escape. Despite being one of the first women artists, and one of the greatest of all at that, the story of the horrors inflicted upon her by a family friend precedes praise of her talent to this day. Her art is seldom introduced without this context. She could relate to Judith, having had her home threatened as well. But not everyone can have the power of a biblical character to go down in history as having slain the bad guys. Gentileschi’s ability to see, or great yearning to see, from Judith’s point of view allows for a painting that feels like stepping into another dimension. Judith and Maidservant with Head of Holofernes (1623-1625) takes the viewer to the time of the myth, into the room with the women. The soft lighting in tandem with realistic depictions of grown women allows for a portrayal that feels honest and true.
For centuries after the event depicted in these two paintings, scholars went on and on about how Judith left Holofernes “unpolluted” and remained chaste after the beheading. It was a victory for the Catholic church as much as it was a victory for men. It is as if Caravaggio’s version seeks to reflect this perfect cleanliness and womanhood, whereas Gentileschi pushes back on the misogynistic idea. In similar biblical stories such as David and Goliath, no one cares to comment on the chastity of either man. Gentileschi adds to the conversation by painting women into the story who do not represent stereotypical notions of the virgin. Furthermore, the linear perspective of the painting, with Judith at the top and center, her maidservant below, and the head of Holofernes at the bottom, nearly cut out, allows for a retelling of the narrative. This verticality shows that like Artemisia, Judith stands tall and strong above the harm caused by men. He is no longer a focal point in the scene; he is swaddled in cloth and ready to be discarded. Artemisia Gentileschi’s version of the story reminds the viewer that this is not the myth of a weak and violent man named Holofernes. This is the myth of Judith, a woman who saved a city, and that has nothing to do with chastity. This is the myth of Artemisia Gentileschi, a woman whose name and powerful art must be remembered.