Renaissance Women Portraits – Kaufman – Baltimore Sun

“Lovely, misleading Renaissance visions” (Renaissance portraits of women at National Gallery), The Baltimore Sun, Dec. 16, 2001, p. 2E. Portraits enchant the viewer but fail to suggest the difficulties of women's lives. By Jason Edward Kaufman

“Lovely, misleading Renaissance visions” (Renaissance portraits of women at National Gallery), The Baltimore Sun, Dec. 16, 2001, p. 2E.

Portraits enchant the viewer but fail to suggest the difficulties of women’s lives.

By Jason Edward Kaufman

WASHINGTON – Wandering through Virtue & Beauty, the exhibit of

Renaissance portraits of women on view at the National Gallery, is a lot

like attending a fashion show.

Dozens of smooth-skinned, fabulously coiffed youths show off clothes

rich beyond imagining as they glide serenely in their own fabulous

worlds. Who are these goddesses, these queens of chic, these splendid

ladies? One imagines them dashing about town, their every wish attended

to by flocks of adoring servants. Ah, to be a stylish young woman in

Renaissance Italy!

But the lives of these ladies, mostly Florentines, were far less

liberated than one might imagine. It’s true that it is in the 15th

century that women first appear in art as independent subjects, rather

than alongside their husbands. But don’t think for a moment that this

reflected newly elevated status for the fair sex. Females were

subordinated by the patriarchy and the church, whose tenets held that

woman was but a weak, flawed version of man, a temptress like Eve whose

foolishness and lasciviousness caused mankind’s fall from grace.

A maiden’s life went pretty much like this: Perhaps as young as 12, she

was locked into an arranged married with a stranger twice her age. The

match had nothing to do with love. It was a corporate merger between two

families for financial and social benefit. The groom showered her with

extravagant clothes and jewelry as a public demonstration of status and

wealth. But his “gifts” remained his property, and after a few years he

was free to sell them.

Though she was likely to survive her older partner – about one-quarter

of Florentine women were widows – inheritance was through the male line

only, so wealth remained within his family. In any case, she was barred

from public life except to attend church, remaining at home where, as

several portraits show, looking out the window was the extent of her

freedom.

Her primary function was childbearing, a dangerous business that often

resulted in death. And since half of all children died before 2, and

only a quarter lived past 16, she was kept constantly pregnant, a

veritable “walking womb” whose purpose was to carry forward the family

line. (One Florentine woman died in 1459 at age 57 having given birth to

36 children.)

Keep this in mind as you admire the beautiful, gold-embroidered, velvet

dresses, the pearl-studded hairdos, the gem-encrusted brooches and

necklaces that adorn these ladies, one more sumptuously clothed than the

next.

140-year range

The 41 portraits on hand date from 1410 to 1550, when Florence was a

leading center of commerce and culture. Most are paintings, but there

are a few superb marble busts, drawings and coinlike medals as well.

About half belong to the National Gallery’s collection, and the rest are

lent by European and American museums, including the Walters Art Museum

in Baltimore (about which, more later).

The National Gallery had to use some clout to borrow so many fragile

paintings on wood – which rarely if ever are allowed to travel – and to

get so many works by giants in the history of Italian art, including

Botticelli, Ucello, Filippo Lippi, Verrocchio, Ghirlandaio, Raphael,

Bronzino and their northern European contemporaries van der Weyden and

Memling. The result is a smashing selection of many of the greatest

female “fashion shots” of the Renaissance.

It is believed that many of these portraits marked weddings, capturing

the richly attired brides as trophies glorifying dynastic unions and

their husbands’ wealth. Others were probably commemorative images

dedicated to a beloved daughter or wife who had died. But even these

tend to be stiff iconic profiles, like the heads on Roman (or American)

coins, elegantly tracing the curvilinear contours of the woman’s face,

but conveying nothing of her inner life.

A theme of the show is the evolution from this profile format to a more

relaxed and engaging three-quarter or frontal view, one that celebrates

a woman’s beauty and allure as much as her expensive finery. Not until

the 16th century did artists routinely paint women in this informal

manner. But there were 15th-century exceptions, like Leonardo’s moody

portrait of Ginevra de’ Benci, a prize of the National Gallery’s

collection and the master’s only work on this side of the Atlantic –

America’s “Mona Lisa,” if you will.

If you’ve ever wondered why Leonardo is so revered by painters, consider

Ginevra’s pale round face framed by delicate ringlets and haloed by a

juniper tree (ginepro in Italian) playing on her name. Consider the

texture and swell of her flesh, the soft modeling of her cheeks and

neck, and the pensive character of her gaze. Even though this is not the

best preserved of the artist’s works, some of its superlative naturalism

remains.

Leonardo’s revolutionary face-to-face portrait reveals a less demeaning

role of woman in Renaissance Florence – that of idealized lover. Though

Ginevra was already married, the Venetian ambassador adopted her as the

object of his platonic love. This kind of chivalric gesture was

perfectly acceptable at the time, and probably a shrewd political move

as well. It is believed that this extramarital admirer, whose symbolic

crest appears on the back of the panel, ordered the portrait from

Leonardo. Thus, Ginevra appears not as an impersonal vehicle for the

trappings of family wealth, but as a self-possessed individual at one

with nature.

Spiritual bliss

The exhibition takes its title from a scroll in her admirer’s crest,

which reads “Beauty Adorns Virtue.” The idea is that physical beauty was

merely the external counterpart of inner virtue. Earlier Florentine

poets such as Dante, Petrarch and Boccaccio praised female beauty as

guiding men to love and Christian salvation. It’s a difficult concept to

grasp, but somehow spiritual bliss is a wasp-waisted blond with long

legs, firm breasts, short teeth, and a high forehead – the preferred

female characteristics of Renaissance Florence.

We see the type in the Botticelli on the cover of the exhibition’s

sociology-packed catalog: an idealized portrait of a young woman

believed to represent Simonetta Vespucci, a celebrated beauty who died

in 1476 at 23. We see it also in the opulent Ghirlandaio portrait of

Giovanna Tornabuoni, daughter-in-law of the papal treasurer and Medici

bank manager. Probably commissioned upon the 19-year-old’s death while

giving birth to her second child, a decade later the painting was

recorded still in her husband’s bedroom, suggesting that not every

arranged marriage was loveless.

The quality trails off in the last part of the exhibition’s chronology,

butof special interest is the Walters’ double portrait of a woman and a

babygirl, painted by Pontormo around 1538. When Henry Walters purchased

it in1902, the light-skinned infant with the full lips, broad nose, and

curlyhair had been covered over. In 1937, restorers removed the

overpaint,revealing the little girl. Recently identified as Giulia de

Medici, herfather Alessandro de’ Medici was the illegitimate son of Pope

Clement VIIand Simunetta, a Moorish woman whose North African features

she clearlyshares. The somber woman’s protection of the child is

virtuous indeed.

But what stays with us from this exhibition is less the virtue, and more

thebeauty, especially of those magnificent over-the-top portraits from

theearlier part of the show. Those eye-dazzling fantasies of fashionable

styleand boundless wealth may not tell us much about the difficult lives

of theRenaissance women they depict. But they still have the capacity to

captivatea spectator. Pay these ladies a visit — you won’t be

disappointed.

Jason Edward Kaufman ©

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Jason Edward Kaufman is an art historian and critic with expertise in museums and the international art world.

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