Autumn/Winter 2022

Restoration 

Conversations 

ISSUE 2, AUTUMN / WINTER 2022 

WOMEN’S STORIES: TODAY AND THROUGH THE CENTURIES 

Autumn / Winter 2022 • Restoration Conversations 1

Publisher 

Calliope Arts Ltd 

London, UK 

Managing Editor 

Linda Falcone 

Contributing Editor 

Margie MacKinnon 

Design 

Fiona Richards 

FPE Media Ltd 

Video maker for RC broadcasts 

Francesco Cacchiani 

Bunker Film 

www.calliopearts.org 

@calliopearts_restoration 

Calliope Arts 

2 Restoration Conversations • Autumn / Winter 2022

From the Editor 

As we conclude preparations for our Autumn/Winter 2022 issue, we bid a fond 

farewell to ‘Fotografe!’, the Florence exhibition on women photographers, 

spotlighting archival treasures from the Alinari Foundation for Photography, which 

brought the works of extraordinary women into the public spotlight at Villa Bardini 

and Forte Belvedere. Wanda and Marion Wulz and Edith Arnaldi and their legacy 

have become part of our lives, as have the people we were fortunate to encounter 

through this enriching partnership whose memories fill these pages. 

The restoration of Artemisia Gentileschi’s Allegory of Inclination, whose initial steps 

are documented in this issue, provides a unique opportunity for the public to ‘meet’ 

Artemisia UpClose, as the project name suggests. It is an honor to begin to tell 

that story forged in paint centuries ago; its power and beauty continue to sustain 

us. Hats off to the project’s expert technicians whose science and manual skills 

will reveal the painting’s unknown secrets. We are committed to documenting each 

discovery as it brings new color to the canvas’s multi-century life, for our readers – 

and the world – to enjoy. 

In the issue’s third segment, we are transported to the Royal Academy of London and 

the Levett Collection in Florence, to name just two venues waiting to be explored, 

and we hope RC’s articles will succeed in whetting the appetite for ‘more’, as far as 

stories of women’s achievements are concerned. If that is the case, the magazine’s 

editorial team will have reached its own precious pinnacle of ‘achievement’, that of 

spreading the word on all the worthy work women do and have done, in bygone 

centuries and today. Thank you for being part of our growing community. 

Fondly, 

Linda Falcone 

Managing Editor, Restoration Conversations 


CONTENTS 

AUTUMN/ WINTER 2022 

EXPOSURE OVERDUE 

6 From Shakespeare to Schiaparelli 

Highlights from the RC broadcast on ‘Fotografe!’ 

14 ‘A Tendor Ardour’ 

Julia Margaret Cameron 

18 Edith Arnaldi 

A ‘woman of the future’ from the Alinari’s Archives 

24 Alinari Reception 

A celebratory send off 

COME CLOSER 

32 Artemisia’s Descent 

40 Artemisia UpClose 

Many ways to see the mastery 

46 A Veiled Issue 

The hows and whys behind Artemisia’s veil 

54 There’s No Place Like Home 

Michelangelo’s house is Artemisia’s abode 

FROM SONGS TO SILK 

60 The ‘Archive Angel’ 

Musica Secreta’s Laurie Stras on women’s voices 

68 Death of A Duchess 

Historical fiction or true crime? 

74 ‘More Bill’, Many Kennedys 

A spotlight on Elaine de Kooning 

78 ‘I Am Becoming Somebody’ 

Paula Modersohn-Becker at the Royal Academy 

88 Sharing Silk 

An interview with Elena Baistrocchi 


Above: Jazz band, Wanda Wulz, 1931, Alinari Archives, Florence. 


From S hakespeare 

to Schiaparelli 

Highlights from the RC broadcast on ‘Fotografe!’ 

During our autumn episode of Restoration 

Conversations, live-streamed on location from 

Florence’s Villa Bardini, Walter Guadagnini, cocurator 

of the exhibition Fotografe! Women 

photographers, Alinari Archives to Contemporary 

Perspectives, shared insights on the show’s 

protagonists. Here is Walter’s take on three 

Dcreative women and their time. 


Above: ‘Fotografe!’ exhibition at Florence’s Villa Bardini, (Image: Olga Makarova). 

PHOTOGRAPHY, FINE ART? 

The idea of photography reaching fine-art status 

has always been a big issue for photographers, 

and I believe this dilemma has finally reached its 

resolution. Pictorialism, a movement that started 

towards the end of the nineteenth century, 

addressed this quest, as photographers strove to 

ensure that their medium would eventually be 

considered a Fine Art, on a par with painting and 

sculpture. Julia Margaret Cameron (1815–1879) 

was one of the first photographers ever to create 

what is known as the tableau vivant and she can 

be considered the mother of Pictorialism – not 

only as a ‘female photographer’… as a matchless 

creative, independent of her gender. 

She used a ‘soft lens’ so her pictures have a 

dream-like quality, and brought together groups 

of friends and developed certain themes from 

Shakespeare’s plays or other literary and religious 

works. Oftentimes, she involved members of 

Pre-Raphaelite circles or famous personalities 

like Lord Alfred Tennyson, astronomer John 

Herschel, or poet and playwright Sir Henry Taylor, 

whose portrait forms part of the Alinari Archives 

collection. In the show, we have the photograph 

of a woman, probably an actor, dressed as 

Herodias, the mother of Salomé. In other words, 

Cameron was engaging in stage photography, 

one century before the likes of American artist 


Above: The ‘Pictorialism’ section at ‘Fotografe’. Photos by Julia Margaret Cameron, authored from 1865 to 1870, Alinari Archives, Florence, (Image: Olga Makarova). 

Cindy Sherman… Her biography is fascinating; 

she received her first camera later in life in 1863 

– as a 48-year-old woman, not a young girl, and 

she became famous almost immediately. She 

exhibited in the Victoria and Albert Museum 

in 1865 – then called the South Kensington 

Museum – which purchased 80 of her prints, 

as one of the museum’s first acquisitions. In 

fact, for two years, her photography studio was 

actually inside the Museum! 

A GAME OF ‘WHO’S WHO?’ 

Madame d’Ora’s 1926 portrait, Madame 

Schiaparelli, featuring Roman fashion designer 

Elsa Schiaparelli and her dog, epitomises the 

typical cannons of the period, which were still 

significantly influenced by Pictorialism. She is 

almost blurred… only her gaze is in focus. This 

technique gives the picture a timeless quality. 

Schiaparelli (1890–1973) was a rival of Coco Chanel 

and she took the fashion world by storm, in the 

inter-war period, with her surrealist creations 

[and the invention of the shade ‘shocking pink’ in 

1937, a colour borrowed, years later, for Marilyn’s 

strapless number in Gentleman Prefer Blondes. 

Despite her sedate appearance in Madame 

D’Ora’s photograph, Schiaparelli, created cuttingedge, 

mostly surrealist garments and accessories, 


MADAME D’ORA (1881–1963) 

was a Viennese photographer 

intent on immortalising the rich 

and famous. Josephine Baker, 

Tamara de Lempicka and Collette 

are just a few of the women 

she captured on camera. Until 

1925, she worked in Germany 

and Austria in tandem with her 

partner Arthur Benda, in a studio 

they called Benda-D’Ora. 

Exact authorship of the 

photographs the studio produced 

is difficult to determine, and 

it should be noted that Benda 

kept ‘D’Ora’ as part of the 

company name, even after the 

pair separated in 1927, despite 

Madame D’Ora having founded a 

Paris atelier two years earlier. Her 

Parisian studio remained open 

until Germany occupied the 

city, in 1940, at the height of the 

Second World War, after which 

Madame D’Ora, of Jewish descent, 

went into semi-hiding. 


like those born from her creative partnership 

with avant-garde artist Salvador Dali]. 

The Alinari picture is also an example of the 

period’s fashion photography, as fashion has 

always been one of the most important ways of 

spreading the medium throughout the world. It’s 

not an exaggeration to say that photography’s 

most famous exponents made their name in the 

world of fashion, not least, thanks to the renown 

of celebrity sitters. 

MOVEMENT AND … MUSIC 

Wanda Wulz (1903–1984) is often discussed as a 

major exponent of Futurism, but her ties to the 

movement were short-lived. For most of her 

life, she was a studio photographer, who did not 

subscribe to a specific movement. Her interest in 

Futurism – or its interest in her – developed in 

the early 1920s. The movement was founded by 

Filippo Tommaso Marinetti – who Wanda knew 

and photographed with great skill. Futurism 

celebrated modernity and speed, in addition to 

militarism and the glories of warfare. 

It was the first avant-garde movement strictly 

related to photography. We have to remember that 

theatre director and cinematographer Anton Giulio 

Bragaglia wrote his Fotodinamismo Futurista in 

1914. The Cubists and the Expressionists were not 

interested in photography… they were suspicious 

of it, because it was considered too mechanical. 

Wanda often worked with double exposures, and 

many of her shots have a mechanical feel, where 

she portrays the idea of movement, because, 

Left: Wunder-bar, 1930 c., 

Alinari Archives, Florence. 

Above: Portrait of Marion Wulz by Wanda 

Wulz. Alinari Archives, Florence. 


Above: Marion Wulz in the dress by Anita Pittoni, Wanda Wulz, 1935 c., 


Above, right: Portrait of Henry Taylor by Julia Margaret Cameron. 


Right: Exercise, Wanda Wulz, 1932, Alinari Archives, Florence. 


y now, we are in the ‘machine era’. One of the 

reasons I find photography so interesting is that 

it is intrinsically related to societal trends. When 

you look at a photograph, you are actually looking 

at what is happening in society. 

Wanda Wulz was modern in other ways as well. 

Women protagonists appear often in her work 

– they are gymnasts, Olympians and dancers… 

active women. In Jazz band, from 1932, she is 

referencing music from the United States, and 

you can imagine, in the 1930s, high-society 

Europeans were not very friendly towards it… 

This photograph is a declaration of modernity, 

not least because the player is a woman. We have 

many female drummers today, but in Wulz’s time 

that would have been a novelty – new music, and 

new musicians! RC 


Above: Portrait of Julia Margaret Cameron, 

Henry Herschel Hay Cameron, 1870, 

MET Museum, New York. 

Inset, right: Annie, Julia Cameron, 1864, 

J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles. 


“A tender ardour” 

Julia Margaret Cameron 

By Linda Falcone 

Calcutta-born British photographer Julia 

Margaret Cameron (1815-1879) was about 

my age when she received her first 

camera at 48 – as a gift from her daughter and 

son-and-law. It was a suitable present, they 

thought, for a woman who needed quite a lot to 

keep her occupied. She had 

raised five of her relatives’ 

children and had five of 

her own – in addition to 

adopting a young Irish girl, 

whom she found begging on 

Putney Heath. The gift was 

“to amuse you, Mother, to try 

and photograph during your 

solitude.” 

In her own words, Julia 

handled the camera with 

“tender ardour” from the 

time she shot what she 

referred to as her “first 

success” in 1864 – the 

photo of a girl called Annie 

Philpot, which she purposely 

blurred to suggest the child’s 

movement, rather than 

seeking the usual stoic pose Victorians imposed 

upon photographed children. 

Julia would transform her estate’s henhouse 

into her first darkroom, which she called the ‘glass 

house’ and used it to produce dreamy pictures 

that photographers hated and artists loved. 

Cameron’s only natural daughter – also named 

Julia – was right about the gift being an antidote 

to solitude. The whole world – or at least the 

whole Isle of Wight – was coaxed or commanded 

in front of her camera. House workers or hapless 

tourists admiring the beach 

were somehow lured back 

to her ‘lair’ to pose for a 

tableau scene, transformed 

into characters born in the 

mind of Milton. They would 

become the Greek poet 

Sappho or King Lear’s sad 

daughters. The neighbour’s 

hired help was dolled up 

and made to carry the 

Madonna’s Annunciation 

lily. Strapped-on swan wings 

were a common feature in 

her photographs. And in the 

buzz and glory of it all, she 

treated genius scientists 

and humble seamstresses 

exactly the same. 

Lucky for us, the Isle 

of Wight was brimming with the vacationing 

elite, which secured for posterity some of the 

most important portraits of nineteenth-century 

British writers, scientists and poets ever taken. 

Poet Alfred Tennyson asked Julia to photograph 


Above: Vivien and Merlin 

(sitters Agnes Mangles, Charles 

Hay Cameron) Julia Margaret 

Cameron, 1874, Victoria 

and Albert Museum Library, 

London. 

Above, right: King Lear 

allotting his kingdom to 

his three daughters, Julia 

Margaret Cameron, 1872, MET 

Museum, New York. 

a series to accompany his poem cycle Idylls of 

the King and this literary association pleased her 

and gave added credence to her quest, namely, to 

bring photography out of the technical realm, by 

elevating it to the level of the other arts. 

Tennyson did not escape her lens, of course – 

she made him pose too, once as himself, and other 

times – as whomever she saw fit. A description 

of Tennyson’s sittings features in Freshwater, the 

comic sketch Virginia Woolf wrote for a private 

performance at Bloomsbury. Woolf’s mother, Julia 

Jackson, was Cameron’s niece and posed for 

many pictures as well. Woolf’s character ‘Julia’ 

snaps at ‘Tennyson’ with characteristic intensity, 

“That’s the very attitude I want! Sit still, Alfred!” 

Tennyson describes his experience: “The 

studio, I remember, was very untidy and very 

uncomfortable. Mrs Cameron put a crown on my 

head and posed me as the heroic queen. … The 

exposure began. A minute went over and I felt as if 

I must scream, another minute and the sensation 

was as if my eyes were coming out of my head; 

a third, and the back of my neck appeared to 

be afflicted with palsy; a fourth, and the crown, 

which was too large, began to slip down my 

forehead; a fifth—but here I utterly broke down, 

for Mr Cameron, who was very aged, and had 

unconquerable fits of hilarity which always came 

in the wrong places, began to laugh audibly, and 

this was too much for my self-possession, and I 

was obliged to join the dear old gentleman.” 

Julia had met Charles Hay Cameron in South 

Africa, and married him in India, in 1838. Fifteen 

years his wife’s senior, he was man enough 

to play Merlin in the artist’s scenes, and any 

woman whose husband is smart enough to make 

her want to run through the house with fresh 

photographs in tow, so that he could receive 

them with guaranteed ‘delight’ is a woman I want 

to meet in the elevator. “It is my daily habit to run 

to him with every glass upon which a fresh glory 

is newly stamped,’ she wrote “and to listen to 

his enthusiastic applause. This habit of running 

into the dining-room with my wet pictures has 

stained such an immense quantity of table linen 

with nitrate of silver, indelible stains, that I should 


have been banished from any less indulgent 

household.” 

Cameron’s first show was held in 1865 at the 

South Kensington Museum – now the Victoria 

and Albert Museum – which, surprisingly, 

was also home to her photography studio in 

1868. Apparently, the well-connected woman 

knew how to get a gig. In fact, although she 

did not photograph on commission and never 

established a professional studio, she did market, 

print and sell her images through Colnaghi, and 

the V&A now owns 80 of her pictures, purchased 

in the early days of her 12-year career. 

In 1875, the Camerons moved to Sri Lanka, then 

Ceylon, to tend to a fungus affecting their coffee 

plantations. Julia Cameron died there, four years 

later, with thousands of photos to her credit. 

Photographic materials were scarce in Ceylon, 

and her later production diminished, but her 

inborn mission – discovered late, and lived with 

all the fire of her temperament, would never leave 

her. “Beauty, you are under arrest, I have a camera 

and am not afraid to use it,” has remained as one 

of her most frequently quoted phrases, hence, it 

is fitting that “Beauty” was her dying word. 

With images of Julia, ‘Merlin’ and crowned 

Mr Tennyson, still fresh in our minds, I’d like 

to share a final quote, for I would be remiss if 

amidst the humour, I neglected to emphasise the 

seriousness of Julia’s photographic endeavours. 

Victorian critics had ever-harsh words for her. 

Photographers derided her ‘soft-focus’ images as 

amateurish and her medievalist scenes as reason 

for ridicule, yet she approached her work with 

religious dedication. Carlyle, Dickens, Darwin, 

Herschel, Browning, Watts and more have Julia 

Margaret Cameron to thank, for how they are 

remembered in the collective consciousness, and 

here’s why: “When I have had such men before 

my camera,” the photographer wrote, “my whole 

soul has endeavoured to do its duty towards 

them in recording faithfully the greatness of the 

inner as well as the features of the outer man. 

The photograph thus taken has been almost the 

embodiment of a prayer.” 

Amen, dear Julia Margaret Cameron. Amen. RC 

Above, left: Maud (sitter Mary 

Hillier), Julia Cameron, 1875, 

Victoria and Albert Museum 

Library, London. 

Above: Angel of the Nativity 

(Sitter Laura Gurney), Julia 

Margaret Cameron, 1872, 

J. Paul Getty Museum, 

Los Angeles. 


Edith Arnaldi 

A ‘woman of the future’ found in Alinari 

Archives 

By Linda Falcone 

Edith Arnaldi – celebrated in Futurist circles 

as Rosa Rosà – was a Futurist painter, writer, 

illustrator and ceramicist, yet few know that 

she was also a dedicated photographer, whose 

largely undiscovered oeuvre – comprising 

negatives, glass slides and prints – is 10,000 

works strong. Florence-based German researcher 

Lisa Hanstein, who has studied Arnaldi over the 

course of two decades, only recently discovered 

the artist’s ‘photographic vein’, thanks to her 

copious archive at Florence’s Alinari Foundation 

for Photography. As contributor to the short-lived 

Florence journal Italia Futurista, Arnaldi (1884-1978) 

stood at the forefront of early feminism in Italy, 

generating debate among her contemporaries, 

authoring essays such as ‘Women of the Future’ 

and ‘Women Are Finally Changing’, in which she 

analysed and advocated for new, anti-bourgeois 

roles for women, an issue made even more 

relevant once a whole generation of men left for 

the front, to fight the Great War. 

WOMEN IN THE ROUND 

“Over the last few years, my studies on Edith 

Arnaldi have focused on her interest in the 

invisible – her portrayal of moods and states 

of mind. Despite Arnaldi being a prolific artist, 

almost none of her paintings and ceramic works 

have survived or been traced, therefore, to find 

such a large photographic oeuvre in Florence is 

exciting. It is also a revelation to find that much of 

Arnaldi’s photography captures fleeting moments 

in the lives of women. They are pensive or 

enthusiastic; they are engrossed in their work… 

and most importantly, they are represented as 

individuals,” says Dr. Hanstein. “The visual arts 

in Arnaldi’s time followed trends advocated by 

Istituto LUCE – the Union for Education Cinema 

– a major media-arm of the Fascist regime, which 

strove to represent certain typecast characters, 

and well-established stereotypes. Although 

Arnaldi’s photography in the thirties and forties 

portrays rural living in Italy’s hillside towns, which 

include glimpses of traditional festivals and ageold 

customs, you get a sense that the people 

her camera captures are never flat characters 

– they are real, multi-faceted people, as in her 

Ciociaria works. The ‘Water-bearer’, whom she 

photographed over the course of several years, is 

representative of her sensibility.” 

Right: At Edith’s villa, 1951, 

Edith Arnaldi, Alinari Archives, 

Florence. 



Above, left: Somalia, 1951, 


Florence. 

Above, right: Piglio [Inv 

NVQ-S-002281-4617], 1935, 


Florence. 

“We should also note,” Hanstein continues, “that 

Arnaldi was not working on commission. She 

came from an aristocratic family, and her pictures 

were not her livelihood. This meant she could 

dedicate a lot of time to experimentation and 

work with subjects entirely of her own choosing. 

The fact that Arnaldi was an avid traveller 

is significant. Her daughter Maretta (Maria 

Enrichetta), who married an Italian ambassador, 

lived in Madrid (1935-6), Rabat (1938) and Somalia 

(1951), and Arnaldi would visit her, sometimes for 

months – a daunting journey during her time. 

Her Somalia pictures – especially those of village 

women – have a similar intimate feel to those 

in her Ciociaria series.” The anthropological 

nature of Arnaldi’s body of work sheds light on 

other parts of the world as well, as she travelled 

frequently, from the 1930s to the 1950s – to 

Hungary, Slovakia, the Czech Republic, Germany 

and Egypt, among other nations. 

AN AURA, A VOCATION 

“Scientific photography was very important to 

some painters of Italian futurism and, in the first 

half of the 1900s, artists started playing with the 

idea of using scientific discoveries to define and 

inspire their own artistic research, because it 

zeroed in on what the naked eye could not see,” 

Dr Hanstein explains. As early as 1917, Arnaldi was 

interested in scientific photography, and she may 

have ultimately turned to the artistic medium 

because it could do things that painting and 

drawing could not.” 

A number of Futurist artists, including Arnaldi, 

were impressed by research on paranormal 

phenomena leading to the discovery of 

magnetism, and the detection of the aura, 

for instance, or concentrated their efforts on 

what Futurism painter and poet Giacomo Balla 

described as, “representing light by separating 

the colours that compose it.” Balla, the oldest 


exponent of the Futurists who, incidentally called 

themselves ‘the Lords of Light’, was known to wear 

a light bulb wrapped in transparent celluloid to 

light up his neckties and, in accordance with the 

manifesto of the Futurist painters, he maintained 

that the eyes of the artist were like an x-ray 

that could see things that others couldn’t. “The 

vocation of the artist, in the Futurists’ view, was to 

make hidden elements visible,” Hanstein explains, 

“and, obviously, this view was closely tied to the 

occult philosophies in vogue in Europe at the 

time, not least Austria, where Arnaldi was raised 

and educated.” 

‘SEDUCTION’ AND THE NEW WOMAN 

“Marinetti called Arnaldi the ‘genius from 

Vienna’, and they knew each other, but she did 

not cultivate close ties with him,” Dr. Hanstein 

notes. “A significant collection of letters penned 

by Arnaldi’s hand is yet to be found, but two of 

her letters to writer Emilio Settimelli form part of 

the Fondazione Primo Conti Museum archive in 

Fiesole. ‘I heard Marinetti is going to marry, do 

you know who?’ Arnaldi writes, and the question 

demonstrates her relationship with the founder 

of Futurism was not especially close, despite her 

name appearing in his notebooks. The artist’s 

letter reveals her sense of humour, and you 

get the sense of what she is actually asking: 

‘Who would marry Marinetti?’ The answer, of 

course, was Benedetta Cappa, an artist and, later, 

a major exponent of the movement Marinetti 

championed.” 

How the women of Marinetti’s circle morphed 

the pillars of his Manifesto Futurista into 

something that eventually led to their ‘liberation’, 

is not evident at first glance. “We want to glorify 

war, the only cure for the world – militarism, 

patriotism, the destructive gesture of the 

anarchists, the beautiful ideas which kill, and 

contempt for woman,” Marinetti wrote in the 1909 

document that defined the movement. 

Below: Piglio [Inv 

NVQ-S-002281-4527], 1935, 


Florence. 


Futurist women appear to have taken this 

contempt, in stride, and perhaps interpreted it as 

a contempt for the limited nature of traditional 

female roles. In fact, they shared his disdain 

for both the Angel of the Hearth and Femme 

Fatale. “Although Arnaldi was a resident of Rome, 

she presumably had contact with her female 

counterparts living in both Rome and Florence… 

Mina Loy, Irma Valeria, Maria Ginanni and Fulvia 

Giuliani, and their debate on the role of the New 

Woman, was an important one, but we have to 

remember, they did not all agree on what ‘la 

nuova donna’ meant, or how the change should 

play out exactly. They simply shared the need for 

a new image.” 

Edith Arnaldi, you might say, was a woman of 

two names and many souls – at least three – as 

the title of her novel A Woman with Three Souls 

appears to suggest. Authored in 1918, her novel is 

an early example of feminist science fiction, and 

considered a tit-for-tat reaction to Marinetti’s only 

successful book, How to Seduce Women, printed 

in 1916. According to Arnaldi, she did not consider 

herself a feminist but as ‘–ist’, hence, she says, ‘the 

first part of the word has not yet been found’”. Dr 

Lisa Hanstein, for one, is still searching for the 

word… or words… that will make a perfect fit. RC 

For more on the Digital Archive on Futurism in Florence at the 

Kunsthistorisches Institut in Florenz – Max-Planck-Institut: http:// 

futurismus.khi.fi.it/index.php?id=100&L=1 

Above, left: Geometric conflagration, 1917, L’Italia futurista, Edith Arnaldi (von Haynau or Rosa Rosà), 

Kunsthistorisches Institut in Florenz. 

Above, right: Dancer, 1921, Edith Arnaldi (von Haynau or Rosa Rosà), Kunsthistorisches Institut in Florenz. 

Above: Display case featuring Edith Arnaldi’s gelatin silver prints with notes (1936) Alinari Archives, 

Florence, (Image: Olga Makarowa). 


D 

r. Lisa Hanstein received her PhD at 

the Goethe University Frankfurt in 

2015. She is Academic Assistant in the 

library at the Kunsthistorisches Institut 

in Florenz – Max-Planck-Institut. She 

co-organised ‘Mapping Futurism’, the 

conference proceedings and digital 

projects on Futurism. Hanstein is the 

author of several books and essays, 

including the in-English publications: 

Edyth von Haynau, Edyth Arnaldi and 

Rosa Rosà: One Woman, Many Souls 

(2021) and Edyth von Haynau: A Viennese 

Aristocrat in the Futurist Circles of the 

1910s (2015). 

She specialises in the impact of 

psychology, spiritism and science on 

Italian Futurist art and has published 

articles on the topic, as well as on 

Edith Arnaldi and on the KHI’s Futurism 

Archive. Her work on Edith Arnaldi, in 

the Alinari Archives with co-curator 

Emanuela Sesti, was paramount to the 

Fotografe! exhibition (See page 7). 

Top: The ‘Edith Arnaldi’ section at ‘Fotografe!’ at Forte di Belvedere, 

featuring Arnaldi’s Ciociaria series, (1935), (Image: Olga Makarowa). 

Above: Co-curator Emanuela Sesti oversees exhibition set-up, June 2022. 



Alinari Reception 

A celebratory send-off 

On September 27, 2022, Calliope Arts gathered with 

its partners and friends to celebrate the successful 

conclusion of the show FOTOGRAFE! Women 

photographers: Alinari Archives to Contemporary Perspectives. 

Villa Bardini, one of the exhibition’s venues – together with Forte 

di Belvedere – provided an evocative backdrop to the festivities, 

which brought together our growing network of like-minded 

individuals, committed to the art-and-culture scene in Florence 

and further afield. The show, curated by Emanuela Sesti and 

Walter Guadagnini, ran from June 18 to October 2, 2022. Presented 

and promoted by the Alinari Foundation for Photography and the 

Fondazione CR Firenze, in collaboration with the Municipality of 

Florence, it saw the participation of donors Calliope Arts. 

Through its grants programme, Calliope Arts funded the 

creation of two exhibition sections devoted to significant 

collections from the Alinari Archives: that of the sisters Wanda 

Wulz (Trieste 1903-1984) and Marion Wulz (Trieste 1905-1990) and 

that of Edith Arnaldi (Vienna 1884-Rome 1978). “We are especially 

interested in photography by women because it is an art form 

that has always been relatively accessible to women, unlike the 

more traditional fine arts,” says Calliope Arts President Margie 

MacKinnon, “The explosion of popularity of photography 

coincided with the expansion of women’s freedom to be active 

in public spheres and women’s demands for more independence 

and recognition. Thus, this exhibition’s creativeness brought 

dynamism, experimentation, and new techniques to the fore. We 

have been delighted to see these pioneers and contemporary 

women in the exhibition spotlight. It has been an enriching 

partnership, which we hope will continue in the future.” 



Previous page: Views of Villa Bardini. Photos by 

Federica Narducci 

Left, top: E. Pavesi, Vice Mayor of Monzuno, 

RC managing editor L. Falcone, Calliope Arts 

founders W. McArdle and M. MacKinnon, 

co-curator E. Sesti and publisher F. Richards. 

Bottom left: D. Bolognini with The Florentine 

co-owner G. Giusti. 

Bottom right: Scholar C. Tobin, Violinist 

R. Palmer and archaeologist B. Leigh. 

Right, top: Atelier degli Artigianelli’s B. Cuniberti 

with artist V. Slichter. 

Right, middle: Conservator R. Lari and 

Il Palmerino’s V. Parretti. 

Right, bottom: Calliope Arts co-founder 

W. McArdle with artist R. Stavropoulos and 

husband G. Maragno. 



Clockwise from top left: US Consul General R. Gupta, 

W. McArdle and UK collector C. Levett, 

Vice President of AADFI G. Bonsanti with L. Falcone, 

B. Balducci and Accademia Gallery director C. Hollberg, 

Casa Buonarroti president C. Acidini with Rosalia Manno, 

director of the Archives for the Memory and Writings of Women, 

Alinari Foundation for Photography: Director C. Baroncini, 

President G. Van Straten, Press coordinator C. Briganti, 

US philanthropists D. and C. Clark. 

This page, top: Front-row guests: Accademia Gallery director 

C. Hollberg, British Institute of Florence director S. Gammel, 

Il Palmerino’s V. Parretti, US Consul R. Gupta, Conservator 

E. Wicks and husband C. Marino. 

Opposite: Photographers A. Barrucchieri and 

A. Tommasi from Il Cupolone, S. Pretsch, Fondazione Lisio. 


Enjoying the show: 

This page, left: V. Parretti with photographer J.M. Cameron. 

Centre : D. Bolognini with M. Meloni’s pictures. 

Below: C. Bartolini, C. Tobin and conservator A. Gavazzi in room 

featuring F. Belli’s works. 

Right, top: Guests share a laugh with co-curator E. Sesti. 

Right, below: Santa Maria Nuova Foundation secretariat and 

president C. Bartolini and G. Landini. 




Artemisia’s 

descent 

Project donors hold their breath as 

Artemisia Gentileschi’s Allegory of 

Inclination (1616) is removed from the Casa 

Buonarroti Museum’s ceiling on Day 1 of 

the ‘Artemisia UpClose’ restoration project, 

in October 2022. Once the painting is 

safely ‘grounded’, its patrons share their 

first impressions. 



Previous page: Donors Margie 

MacKinnon, Wayne McArdle 

and Christian Levett, Project 

donors and management watch 

Artemisia’s descent at Casa 

Buonarroti. 

Left: Conservator Elizabeth Wicks 

at work. 

Above: Donor Margie MacKinnon 

with the Inclination. 

MARGIE MACKINNON 

“I was surprised at what a moving experience 

it was. This project has been months in the 

making, so while this was the first moment of 

the restoration, it was not the first moment of 

the project. Watching the painting coming down, 

your heart is in your mouth… because you are 

desperate that nothing is going to go wrong. Now 

that I see the canvas and can stand in front of 

it, what really excites me is knowing how many 

people are going to get to see this painting up 

close. When the conservation is finished, it will 

go back onto the ceiling where it lives, but during 

the time it is being restored and exhibited, people 

are going to have such a wonderful opportunity 

to see and appreciate this amazing work.” 


Below: Donor Wayne McArdle shares 

first impressions. 

Right: Artemisia’s painting is 

removed from Gallery ceiling 

framework. 

WAYNE MCARDLE 

“Seeing the painting’s descent was a very 

emotional moment! What surprised me was how 

lightly the frame of the painting was placed on the 

ceiling. I expected there would be some chipping 

away at paint, or adhesive or something… nails 

or screws, but no! They just lifted the painting 

lightly off the frame, and brought it down from 

the ceiling, very, very gently. Of course, once 

down, it was simply wonderful to see the work. I 

think we were all totally impressed by the quality 

of the painting itself. I believe we are going to 

see some real revelations when the restoration 

and investigation work is finished and, as far as 

Calliope Arts and our mission is concerned, I 

can’t think of a better way to demonstrate what 

we are trying to do, in bringing the work of 

women artists to the attention of the public, so 

I’m delighted.” 



38 Restoration Conversations • Autumn / Winter 2022 

CHRISTIAN LEVETT 

Firstly, the painting looks to be over five feet 

high, so when you see it way above you on the 

ceiling, you don’t get a sense of how big the 

painting actually is; it just looks like another one 

of the panels. The scale of it is impressive, once it 

comes down. I think you also get a sense of how 

fantastic it’s going to look once the restoration 

is completed. Of course, when it is up high, it’s 

dark… it has withstood the test of time the last 

400 years – because they don’t think it has been 

moved during that period. 

When you see it up close, you get the feeling 

immediately as to what an amazing project this is. 

The other fantastic and slightly unexpected thing 

is that, as they took it out of the ceiling frame and 

brought it down, 400 years of dust fell from the 

canvas, and that, in and of itself, was a spectacular 

moment. So, a whole array of different things 

impressed me… it’s tremendously exciting! RC

Left: Donor Christian Levett 

discusses Artemisia UpClose. 

Above: Project donors 

and management at Casa 

Buonarroti: C. Levett, L. 

Falcone, A. Cecchi, C. Accidini, 

M. MacKinnon, W. McArdle. 


Artemisia 

UpClose 

Many ways to see the mastery 

At its inception, and over the course of 

many months of planning, we referred 

to our wonderful Artemisia Gentileschi 

project as ‘Artemisia Unveiled’. This title was 

intended as a metaphorical nod to the part 

of the restoration project in which we would 

use sophisticated diagnostic equipment, such 

as infra-red technology, to ‘peek’ beneath the 

veil and discover how the painting originally 

looked, allowing us to recreate a virtual image 

of Artemisia’s work as it would have appeared to 

Michelangelo the Younger, who commissioned it. 

It was always intended that the restoration of the 

painting would leave the veil intact – as it has 

become an integral part of the work and its history. 

In order to make clear our intentions, with the 

descent of the painting into the museum spotlight 

and the restoration’s media debut, we have 

renamed our project ‘Artemisia UpClose’. This not 

only removes the ambiguity of the ‘Inclination’s’ 

unveiling, it also highlights the fact that this 

restoration provides a unique opportunity for the 

public to truly view Artemisia’s work up close – 

while it is undergoing conservation treatments 

and when the restored work is exhibited, along 

with the virtual image of ‘what lies beneath the 

veil’. In due course, the painting will return to 

the ceiling niche for which it was created. While 

still on view, it will then be well out of touching 

distance. 

Right: Diagnostic analysis: 

Examining the painting in raking 

light ; Artemisia’s Inclination in the 

Model Room at Casa Buonarroti. 



IN PROGRESS AT THE MUSEUM 

OCTOBER 2022 TO APRIL 2023 

We’d like Florence and its countless international 

visitors and expats to meet Artemisia in person! 

Fondazione Casa Buonarroti president, art 

historian and author Cristina Acidini, welcomed 

the painting – which has never been in the public 

eye at such close range before – by sharing her 

initial impressions: “It was very exciting to have 

the opportunity to examine the canvas close 

up. Underneath the altered varnish, we can see 

that the painting is of extremely high quality. 

We know that Artemisia was an extraordinary 

painter and the Inclination confirms it. If you 

look at the softness of the skin, the tenderness 

of her forms, the figure’s luminosity and even her 

very complex hairstyle – all of these elements are 

sure to prove very interesting once its complete 

legibility is achieved.” 

During museum opening hours, the artloving 

public will have the opportunity to see 

the Allegory of Inclination restoration project 

in progress, thanks to a worksite set up in Casa 

Buonarroti’s ‘Model Room’. Head conservator 

Elizabeth Wicks will be available to answer 

questions from the public, on Fridays. Those who 

will not be able to make it to Florence in person 

can count on getting a glimpse of the process, 

thanks to a series of short videos created by 

Florence-based filmmaker Olga Makarova. The 

first segment, ‘Artemisia, The Descent’ has already 

gone viral on social media. For more on the 

science-side of the restoration, see page 52. 

EXHIBITION AND PUBLICATION PLANS 

SEPTEMBER 2023 TO JANUARY 2024 

“Artemisia UpClose will transform into a future 

exhibition at Casa Buonarroti, scheduled for next 

September,” says museum director Alessandro 

Cecchi, who is overseeing the project, together 

with Jennifer Celani, official for the Archaeological 

Superintendence for the Fine Arts and Landscape 

for the metropolitan city of Florence. Although 

full exhibition details are still in the development 

phase, Dr. Cecchi shares the following, “The show 

will spotlight conservation findings and explore 

the context surrounding the painting’s creation, 

including the significance of her Florentine 

debut and her key relationships with Grand Duke 

Cosimo de’ Medici and the city’s cultural milieu.” 

Again, those unable to see the show in person, 

can still have a keepsake from the exhibition: 

the English language exhibition catalogue (The 

Florentine Press, 2023) will be finalised next 

summer, and later, flanked by the Italian language 

publication ‘Buonarrotiana’ series (2023 edition) 

featuring specialist studies on Artemisia and 

her time, followed by a lecture series with major 

scholars in response to the show. 

Right, top left: Conservator Elizabeth Wicks uses 

a digital microscope to examine 

the painting’s condition. 

Right, top right: Conservator examines 

re-painting by Il Volteranno. 

Right: Phase-1 diagnostics, 

Artemisia UpClose. 




TENDER LOVING CARE FOR CASA 

BUONARROTI 

While the Allegory of Inclination is at the heart 

of the project, its restoration is by no means 

the only initiative forming part of ‘Artemisia 

UpClose’. “We’d like to look at the project as 

the start of something bigger,” says project codonor 

Christian Levett. Beyond the restoration 

of Artemisia’s Buonarroti painting, the project 

includes a refurbishment of the museum entrance, 

the renewal of its signage, and the redesign of 

the Gallery room’s lighting. This museum has an 

amazing story to tell, and we want to shed more 

light on it—literally.” This ‘tender-loving-care’ for 

the gallery will be completed by the end of 2023, 

and enhance the visitor experience, particularly 

of the seventeenth-century wing, a treasure trove 

designed by Michelangelo the Younger over the 

course of 30 years, whose genius conceived the 

first-ever architectural and artistic tribute to an 

artist, his great uncle, ‘Michelangelo the Divine’. 

WHO’S INVOLVED? 

The project, funded by Calliope Arts and 

Christian Levett (see page 38), is curated by 

Fondazione Casa Buonarroti and overseen by 

the Archaeological Superintendence for the Fine 

Arts and Landscape for the metropolitan city of 

Florence. It brings together restoration scientists, 

technicians, photographers and filmmakers to 

compile, analyse, document and share findings. 

Its players include: Head conservator Elizabeth 

Wicks, Italy’s National Research Council (CNR) 

and National Institute for Optics (NIO), Teobaldo 

Pasquali for X-ray and radiographs, Ottaviano 

Caruso for diagnostic images; Massimo Chimenti 

of Culturanuova s.r.l. for digital image creation; 

Olga Makarova for video and reportage 

photography. Project Coordinator: Linda Falcone. 

Media partners: Restoration Conversations and 

The Florentine. RC 

Left: Detail of the painting, pre-restoration, showing 

upclose Artemisia’s brushstrokes. 

Above, top: Cleaning handmade paper layer glued to 

revervse of canvas. 

Above: Painting facedown with original canvas nailed 

to corner of stretcher. Layer of canvas and paper glued 

to the reverse. 


A veiled issue 

The hows and whys behind Artemisia’s veil 

THE POEM AND THE PREMISE 

In 1846, Robert and Elisabeth Browning secretly 

eloped to Florence, one week after their London 

wedding, and settled in Casa Guidi, which 

Elizabeth described as being “six paces from 

the Piazza Pitti”. In the Tuscan capital, Elisabeth 

quipped, “we should live like the Grand Duke with 

five hundred a year” – which was lucky, since her 

father had all but disowned her for marrying 

Robert. They lived mostly in Florence for 15 years, 

until her death, and it was there she published a 

novel in verse, Aurora Leigh – her longest work 

– in 1857. Florence would provide inspiration 

to Robert as well, and his sometimes derisive 

and often humorous pen gave a voice to those 

who once dwelled in Florence’s palazzi – even 

after he had stopped living in one. In his final 

volume of poems, Asolando: Fancies and Facts – 

published in Venice on the day of his death in 

1889 – he includes “Beatrice Signorini”. Browning 

thought the poem the best in the book – told 

by an ‘external narrator’ in many ways similar to 

himself. 

In “Beatrice Signorini”, Artemisia Gentileschi 

is portrayed as “a wonder of a woman, and no 

Cortona drudge”. She is cast as the lover of 

Baroque painter Francesco Romanelli, a Viterboborn 

moderately successful painter. Their 

romance is fictional, but the jealousy the poem 

conveys is real. As the story goes, Artemisia 

produced a Florence picture: “a semblance of 

her soul, she called ‘Desire’” painted to “brighten 

Buonarroti’s house”. The Inclination, which 

Browning never mentions by name, presides over 

a room “where the fire sits”. 

The poet’s imaginary narrative continues, and 

Romanelli’s wife – the poem’s namesake – takes 

revenge on a portrait her husband painted of 

Artemisia. By contrast, the allegorical figure “with 

starry front as guide”, authored by Gentileschi’s 

own hand, remains unharmed. “If you see 

Florence, “pay that piece your vows”, the narrator 

urges, before launching into a poetic tirade that 

alludes to a real-life scenario still relevant to 

the art world today: the addition of Artemisia’s 


Right: Allegory of Inclination, 

Artemisia Gentileschi, 1616, 

Casa Buonarroti Museum, 

Florence, pre-restoration, 

(Image: Ottaviano Caruso). 


Left: Portrait of Robert Browning, Herbert Rose Barraud, 

1888 c. The Roy Davids Collection, London. 

Above: Elisabeth Barrett Browning, Michele Gordigiani, 

1859, National Portrait Gallery, London. 

Right: Self portrait of Baldassarre Franceschini, 

Il Volterrano, 1636-1646, The Glories of the House of 

Medici, Villa della Petraia, Florence. 


veil and drapery. Browning blames the Grand 

Duke’s prudish superintendent – whom the poet 

targets in more than one work: “The blockhead 

Baldinucci’s mind, imbued / With monkish morals, 

bade folk Drape the nude / And stop the scandal!” 

In his own six-volume work, ‘Notes on Teachers 

of Drawing from Cimabue until Now’, Filippo 

Baldinucci (1665-1717), a post-Vasari art historian 

and biographer, reports that on the instruction 

of Lionardo Buonarroti, he asked Volteranno to 

spare the blushes of women and children, by the 

addition of a flowing veil over the lower part of 

the painting. This order, made “for the decorum 

and modesty” of the Buonarroti home, “filled with 

young ones, his children… and his wife” made the 

ink in Browning’s pen boil: “Hang his book and 

him!” he wrote. 

Although Baldinucci takes the literary brunt of 

Browning’s disdain, it is not likely the biographer 

had the power to sway Lionardo Buonarroti one 

way or the other, as Hawklin and Meredith point 

out (2009). What we can say is that censoring 

nudes was a common practice that generations 

of artists of Artemisia’s calibre and beyond had 

to grapple with. 

The 1684 addition of the veil to the Inclination 

was carried out by a painter from the Tuscan 

town of Volterra, Baldassare Franceschini (1611- 

1689). Noted as a fresco painter, he received 

commissions from the Medici family for work 

in the Villa Petraia. Franceschini was known 

as Il Volterrano (referencing his birthplace) or 

sometimes Il Volteranno Giunore, to distinguish 

him from an earlier painter from the same town. 


Below: Detail, The Last Judgment, Sistine Chapel ceiling, 

Michelangelo Buonarroti (1508-1512). 

Right: Detail, Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel fresco, prerestoration, 

with evidence of Il Braghettone’s handiwork. 

That painter was Daniele Ricciarelli (1509-1566). 

Sadly for Ricciarelli, he was also to become known 

as Il Braghettone or ‘the breeches maker’’. This is 

because it was Ricciarelli who was engaged by Pope 

Pius IV to cover up, with fig leaves and loincloths, 

the ‘naughty bits’ of the figures in Michelangelo’s 

Last Judgment in the Sistine Chapel. 


That painter was Daniele Ricciarelli (1509-1566). 

Sadly for Ricciarelli, he was also to become 

known as Il Braghettone or ‘the breeches 

maker’’. This is because it was Ricciarelli who 

was engaged by Pope Pius IV to cover up, with 

fig leaves and loincloths, the ‘naughty bits’ of the 

figures in Michelangelo’s Last Judgment in the 

Sistine Chapel. Ricciarelli is said to have been 

well liked by Michelangelo, and may have done 

less damage to Michelangelo’s fresco than other 

censors, following Counter-reformation diktats. 

When it came to the cleaning and restoration 

of the Chapel in 1980, a controversy arose over 

whether to leave Il Braghettone’s additions or to 

restore Michelangelo’s masterpiece to its original 

state. In the end, it was possible to uncover only 

a portion of the original work. Luckily, in 1549 

the farsighted Cardinal Alessandro Farnese had 

commissioned Marcello Venusti to paint an exact 

copy of the Last Judgment for posterity, now in 

the Capodimonte Museum in Naples. 

In the absence of an equivalent saviour of 

Artemisia’s work, we now have the technological 

means of ‘recreating’ her original painting while 

leaving the historic work, including Il Volteranno’s 

additions, intact, as US Florence-based conservator 

Elizabeth Wicks explains below. 


PLANS AND PULLEYS 

Elizabeth Wicks, who heads the project’s state-ofthe 

art team comprising expert technicians and 

restoration scientists, under the supervision of 

Casa Buonarroti Director Alessandro Cecchi and 

Jennifer Celani, official for the Archaeological 

Superintendence for the Fine Arts and Landscape 

for the metropolitan city of Florence, shares 

questions and insight about Artemisia’s veil, as 

the project enters phase 1. 

“Artemisia’s nude allegorical figure was covered 

up by Baldassare Franceschini, the artist known 

as ‘Il Volterrano’. With all due respect, to this 

famous Baroque painter, some of the veil work 

and drapery is surprisingly slapdash. This begs 

the question: Was this sloppiness due to a hasty 

commission, a deliberate affront to Artemisia’s 

painting, or was Il Volterrano uncomfortable about 

being tasked to cover the nude and, therefore, 

simply did not put his heart into it? 

From the outset, an important aspect of this 

project has been to create a virtual image of 

Artemisia’s original work, on the premise that 

the over-painting will not be removed,” Wicks 

explains. “The first reason is that Il Volteranno’s 

repaints are considered historic and part of the 

painting’s setting and life story. Secondly, there 

is only a 70-year difference between Artemisia’s 

painting and the ‘censoring’ draperies and veil. 

It’s a thick layer of paint, with impasto. It may turn 

out that the two artists’ layers are very strongly 

bonded, and, if that is the case, we absolutely 

cannot put the painting at risk. 

Beyond the veils, as mentioned in the 

description of the painting by contemporary 

biographer Filippo Baldinucci, and shown in 

a sketch by Michelangelo the Younger of his 

original idea for The Inclination in the Casa 

Buonarroti archives – he drew the iconographic 

plan of the entire Buonarroti Gallery ceiling – 

Artemisia’s allegorical figure originally had two 

pulleys at her feet. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to 

find those now-invisible pulleys, hiding under the 

clouds! Again, it is all hypothetical at this point. 

As the team makes discoveries and explores 

the Inclination’s needs from a philosophical and 

technical standpoint, we’ll gain the knowledge to 

make informed decisions. For now, it’s early days. 

I am still removing the paper and canvas layers 

glued to the back of the stretcher, and once that 

process is finished, we will be able to continue 

with diagnostics and begin conservation work on 

the front of the painting. 

Through working photographs, diagnostic 

imaging and analysis, we will be able to 

determine the exact technique Artemisia used, 

correctly map the work’s condition, and monitor 

our treatment plan for the painting. Due to the 

historic nature of the repaints, it is not possible 

to remove them from the surface, but the scope 

of our diagnostics will facilitate the creation of a 

virtual image of the original that lies beneath the 

surface of the painting, as we see it today,” Wicks 

explains. “Next week, we start our virtual journey 

‘beneath the veil’ under diffuse and raking light 

sources, followed by UV and infrared research. 

Hypercolormetric Multispectral Imaging and 

examination by digital microscope will then help 

us learn as much as possible about the condition 

of the original painting technique and the later 

repaints. X-ray and high-resolution reflectography 

and other analytical techniques will follow.” RC 


Right: Artemisia Gentileschi’s 

Allegory of Inclination under 

raking light 

(Image: Ottaviano Caruso). 



There’s no place like ‘home’ 

Michelangelo’s house is Artemisia’s abode 

The modest via Ghibellina palazzo was one 

Artemisia herself frequented during her stint 

as a court painter in Florence, hobnobbing 

with Michelangelo the Younger – one of her most 

dedicated patrons and namesake of her daughter 

Agnola, born in 1614, who, unfortunately, died 

before she had time to be baptised. 

At Casa Buonarroti, Artemisia socialised with 

and befriended renowned members of the 

Accademia delle Arti del Disegno, Europe’s first 

drawing academy, of which Artemisia became a 

member in 1616. Her fellow members included 

Galileo, with whom the artist corresponded, 

even after his exile. The compass held aloft by 

the Inclination’s allegorical figure is thought 

to be a nod to the renowned scientist and his 

controversial theories. 

With her intelligence, exceptional selfpromotion 

skills, and the Grand Duke’s favour 

– Cosimo II had commissioned several works 

by the artist prior to the Buonarroti picture – 

Artemisia was at home in Florence’s cultural 

scene. “The seven years she spent in Florence 

marked a period of transformation for Artemisia,” 

writes Letizia Treves in the catalogue of 

Artemisia, the show she curated at London’s 

National Gallery in 2020. “She learnt to read and 

write, forged enduring friendships, met influential 

figures at the Medici court and moved in cultured 

intellectual circles. The artistic practices she had 

learnt from her father Orazio stayed with her, but 

her art took a new direction. Fully conscious of 

the singularity of her position as a gifted female 

painter, she frequently used her own image in her 

work and, as a member of the artists’ academy, 

was abreast of developments in contemporary 

art.” 

Artemisia had the opportunity to enter into 

dialogue with up-and-coming artists of her day, 

through her work on the Allegory of Inclination, 

one of a series of fifteen canvases, created by 

emergent Tuscan painters, to tribute the values 

of Michelangelo the Great. When the younger 

Buonarroti commissioned a five-month pregnant 

Artemisia Gentileschi to paint her piece for 

the piano nobile, or ‘first floor (fit for nobility)’, 

the artist’s fee was three times that of her male 

counterparts, and she is said to have been given 

more ‘iconographic freedom’ than the other artists 

involved, which include dall’Empoli, Passignano, 

Matteo Rosselli and Francesco Furini. On the 

ceiling, across from Artemisia’s canvas is a work 

by Francesco Bianco Buonavita – also painted in 

1616 – which depicts the attribute of Ingenio – 

the genius or intelligence one needs to produce 

art. This value is inclination’s inseparable twin – 

the drive to produce art must be accompanied by 

exceptional skill. 



Previous pages: Views of the Casa Buonarroti 

Gallery Ceiling, (Image: Olga Makarova). 

Left: Saint Michael Archangel, Michelangelo 

Cinganelli, 1922, Casa Buonarroti Museum Chapel. 

Inset, below: Giuliano Finelli, Bust of Michelangelo 

the Younger, 1630, Casa Buonarroti Museum. 

The Gallery ceiling was, of course, merely a 

small part of a much larger project, conceived 

by Michelangelo the Younger, who shared 

his great uncle’s obsession with building an 

“honourable” home in Florence from the 

five buildings the artist had purchased in 

1508, the year he began work on the Sistine 

Chapel. [The museum’s street address is 

now number 70]. Buonarroti the Younger 

– a poet, playwright and academician 

– who incidentally was a great patron of 

female creativity (his support of composer 

Francesca Caccini is a case in point) – 

restored the complex with a home-museum 

in mind, and spent over three decades 

(1612 to 1643) working in his studiolo, 

a wooden booth-like structure, that 

could be described as a ‘walk-in 

desk’. 

In this miniature fortress 

of privacy, placed in what 

is now the seventeenthcentury 

wing, he worked 

to devise and execute 

a plan, in painstaking 

detail. Hence, this wing 

of the museum is entirely 

to his credit and, beyond 

the Gallery, it includes the 

Chamber of Day and Night, the 

jewel-box Chapel of Archangel 

Michael – the palace patron 

saint for obvious reasons – and the 

Studio, whose ceiling fresco tributes 


Above: Model of the facade of the San Lorenzo Church 

Right, top: Battle of the Centaurs, Michelangelo Buonarroti 

(1490-92) Casa Buonarroti Museum. 

Right: Detail, Battle of the Centaurs, Michelangelo 

Buonarroti. 

‘the greats’ of all fields of knowledge. Even Galileo 

is featured among his scientist forefathers – a 

brave decision by Michelangelo the Younger, in a 

climate that would soon give rise to the scientist’s 

condemnation as a heretic for his heliocentric view 

of the Cosmos. (Galileo was sentenced to life in 

prison, later commuted to house arrest which he 

served in Arcetri, just south of Florence). 


For the duration of the Artemsia UpClose 

project, a life-size photograph of the artwork has 

taken its place inside the ceiling’s monumental 

frame, to avoid a gaping hole and assure the 

visitor Artemisia’s painting – under restoration 

in the adjacent Model Room, will return to her 

usual ‘height’ once Florence and the world has 

had a chance to see her up close. As a sidebar, 

the ‘Model’ in whose shadow the Inclination’s 

restoration is underway, is the architectural 

model of San Lorenzo Church that Michelangelo 

designed in circa 1518, by request of the Medici 

pope, Leo X, the second son of Lorenzo the 

Magnificent. Michelangelo had lived with the 

future Pope Leo X – then known as Giovanni – 

for part of his youth, after being discovered by 

Il Magnifico in the San Marco sculpture-garden 

workshop, and invited to live in the Medici 

palace and be educated together with the 

Medici children. 

When Artemsia’s guests move from the 

Model Room, and walk towards the Gallery, 

they will cross the museum’s Marble Room, 

newly restored by Friends of Florence, and 

host to Michelangelo’s Madonna della 

Scala (c. 1491) and Battle of the Centaurs 

(c. 1492). There is a figure among the latter 

relief’s mass of wrestling bodies that 

Artemisia used as a source of inspiration 

for the positioning of her own allegorical 

figure. Look for the leaning figure on the 

left-hand side who is holding a cube-like 

stone which he is preparing to launch into 

the chaos – he is Michelangelo’s man who 

inspired our woman. RC 


Left: Biffoli-Sostegni 

Manuscript. Library of 

the Royal Conservatories 

of Brussels, Belgium 

Manuscript B-Bc 27766 

(page 23v). 

Overleaf: Musica Secreta 

CD covers. 


The ‘archive angel’ and new 

music from the Renaissance 

Musica Secreta’s Laurie Stras on women’s voices 

By Margie MacKinnon 

I“ 

I’ve made it my musicological life goal to restore 

the female voice to its central role in the sound 

of the Renaissance city.” These are the words of 

Laurie Stras, director of Musica Secreta, a British 

vocal ensemble founded in 1991 to explore, 

perform and record music written by and for 

women in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. 

Stras is making the point that traditional musical 

history focuses on compositions that would have 

been performed (by men) at great Papal and ducal 

chapels – accessible to only a small number of 

‘worthy’ individuals. The music that would have 

been familiar to ordinary citizens, on the other 

hand, was “the sound of female voices, going up 

to God, and maintaining the spiritual health of the 

city”. People could walk into a convent at almost 

any hour of the day and hear women’s voices. 

“The sisters would have spent at least eight hours 

singing,” notes Stras, “and would never have got 

much sleep!” 


Over the course of 30 years, Musica Secreta 

have recorded ten CDs, four of which are of 

music exclusively by historic women composers. 

Their most recent CD, Mother Sister Daughter, 

features music believed to have originated in two 

Italian convents, Santa Lucia in Verona, and the 

Florentine San Matteo in Arcetri. The album was 

included in a New York Times review of ‘classical 

music albums to listen to right now’, which 

noted approvingly that, the repertoire includes 

“a setting of the Vespers of St Lucy that has a … 

tangy simplicity and transparency; [and] two sets 

of Vespers for St. Clare [that] are … polished and 

pristine.” The review also singled out Stras for 

creating the performing editions, which include 

light accompaniment for harp, organ and bass 

viol, as well as for directing “this precise, intimate 

and unaffected gathering of voices.” 

Stras explains that creating the performing 

editions is a process of taking various bits of 

music from a manuscript, which may have been 

written in separate polyphonic voices, and 

working out how to put them together. Where 

there are ‘gaps’ in a score, the composer must 

try to work out what the missing notes are from 

what’s left or, in the worst case scenario, she will 

have to recompose things - much like a restorer 

matching an artist’s style to fill in damaged parts 

of a painting. In some cases, an instrument will 

be substituted for a lower voice, or music will be 

transposed to suit the register of the singers. 

A meticulous scholar, Stras often can’t say 

definitively which music is linked to a particular 

convent. “There is no incontrovertible evidence 

linking the Vespers of St. Lucy with Santa 

Lucia,” she explains, “but both their repertoire 

and the illuminations in the manuscripts point 

to a Benedictine convent dedicated to Saint 

Lucy.” Archival research is the starting point for 

uncovering the music of the Renaissance – but 

‘archives’ can vary from sophisticated digital 

platforms that allow scholars to search documents 


online, to a cardboard box tucked out of view in 

the vestry of an ancient church – and everything 

in between. As with all historical research, original 

documents may be incomplete or difficult to 

decipher, or so fragile that it is not possible to 

consult them. Important discoveries may be 

serendipitous or, as Stras prefers to think, given 

a helping hand by an “‘archive angel’ who guides 

you towards things that you would not otherwise 

find, when you least expect to find them”. 

Stras describes a research expedition she had 

planned in 1996 to the State Archives in Regio 

Emilia. With only a brief amount of time available 

to her, she called ahead to ensure the Archives 

would be open on the day of her visit. But, when 

she arrived, she was met with a sign announcing 

‘Archivio Chiuso’ – Archives Closed. “Some years 

later,” she continues, “I found myself at a loose 

end, and decided that I would go for a half day 

and look through this book that I hadn’t managed 

see earlier. As I read it, I noticed something about 

one of the pieces that was very unusual, but I 

knew exactly what it was because I was doing 

a research project at that time about musical 

puzzles. What I found indicated that the whole 

piece would have been a musical puzzle – but 

I wouldn’t have known that in 1996 and I would 

never have returned to that archive and seen 

that book had I not been prevented from seeing 

it when I first attempted to visit.” 

Another intervention of the ‘archive angel’ 

came on the day in 2018 that Musica Secreta 

arrived in Florence to perform at the unveiling 

of a newly restored painting by sixteenthcentury 

painter Sister Plautilla Nelli, at the Last 

Supper Museum of Andrea del Sarto. Stras made 

an impromptu visit to the Biblioteca Nazionale 

where, in the final moments before closing time, 

she discovered the manuscript of the complete 

Lamentations for Good Friday by Antoine Brumel, 

one of the most celebrated composers of the 

Renaissance. Musica Secreta’s 2019 album From 


Left : Galileo Galilei: the Torre del Gallo and Villa Galletti with the old Galileo 

observatory in Arcetri, Wellcome Collection. 

Above: Portrait traditionally identified as Virginia (1600-1634), natural 

daughter of Galileo Galilei and Marina Gamba, Wellcome Collection. 

Left: Map made during 

the pastoral Visit of Msgr. 

Pietro Niccolini to the 

Church at the Monastery 

of S. Matteo in Arcetri 

(1638). 

Florence, Archiepiscopal 

Archives. Diocesan 

Pastoral Visitation, 

b. 11, f. 5. 


Above: Torre del Gallo, at a distance. 

Darkness Into Light became the first recording of 

Brumel’s ‘Lamentations’ which had been believed 

to be lost. 

The Vespers for St Clare were found in the 

‘Biffoli-Sostegni’ manuscript, dated 1560, and 

named for the two nuns whose names are 

embossed on the leather bindings: Agnoleta 

Biffoli and Clemenzia Sostegni. It was apparent to 

Stras that the Vespers were written for four skilled 

women’s voices. “It is possible,” she suggests, “that 

they were specifically written for the nuns at San 

Matteo. They have these three shimmery really 

high voices, and a fourth that is almost as high 

as the others, in this kind of transparent sound 

which is quite extraordinary.” Stras discovered 

that the manuscript originated from the small 

and relatively poor convent of San Matteo, about 

a mile south of Florence’s city walls. 

Despite its modest stature, San Matteo has 

an illustrious connection: it was home to the 

illegitimate daughter of the scientist Galileo 

Galilei. Born Virginia Galilei, but known as Sister 

Maria Celeste, she was sent to live in the convent 

soon after her thirteenth birthday. As well as 

taking on the duties of apothecary, Maria Celeste 

became responsible for the day-to-day running 

of the choir. Stras admits that “it is tempting to 

speculate that Maria Celeste herself would have 

used the Biffoli-Sostegni manuscript after it 

reverted to the convent on Clemenzia Sostegni’s 

death some time after 1606.” 

We have been able to learn a great deal about 

the close relationship between daughter and 

father through a series of 124 letters written by 

Maria Celeste to Galileo which were discovered 

among his papers after his death. The letters also 

reveal many of the details and hardships of life 

inside the convent. In a letter to her father dated 

18 October 1630, Maria Celeste wrote: “I write at 

seven hours after sunset: I beg your Lordship to 

excuse me if I make errors, because during the 

day I haven’t an hour that I can call mine, since 

to all my other jobs is now added the teaching 

of plainchant to four girls and … the organisation 


Above, top: Laurie Stras, centre, and Musica Secreta, (Image: Nick Rutter). Above: Musica Secreta, (Image: Kate Beaugié). 

Right: Cover of the Biffoli-Sostegni manuscript, Library of the Royal Conservatories of Brussels, Belgium Manuscript B-Bc 27766 (binding). 


of the Office in the choir. This wouldn’t be 

tiring for me, except that I do not understand 

Latin at all.” 

After being condemned by the Roman 

Inquisition in 1633 for his theory of a suncentred 

cosmos, Galileo returned to live 

under house arrest in Arcetri, in a villa within 

view of his daughter’s convent. Just four 

months after he arrived there in 1634, Sister 

Maria Celeste died of dysentery at the age 

of 33. 

All that remains of the original Convent 

of San Matteo is a door and a courtyard, but 

it is possible to imagine how the convent 

looked from a whimsical document created, 

during Maria Celeste’s lifetime, by a visiting 

archbishop. Concerned about the fact that 

the villagers in Arcetri had to come into the 

convent to draw water from their well, the 

archbishop drew a map showing the existing 

layout – in preparation for building a well 

outside the convent walls. 

“He must have had a lot of time on his 

hands,” Stras comments, pointing out the 

details. “It even has little footsteps, almost 

like the Harry Potter maps.” One can only 

wonder how much longer the villagers 

lingered at the well, just to hear the voices 

of the nuns chanting the psalms and 

reciting stories in music. For them, it might 

have been the high point in a long day of 

arduous toil. For us, it is further proof of 

how essential the female voices emanating 

from Renaissance convents were to the 

everyday well-being of the city. RC 

Available as a download or CD, Mother Sister Daughter concludes with Musica Secreta’s first 

commissioned work: The Veiled Sisters by British composer Joanna Marsh. This work weaves 

together the present and the past, combining the words of contemporary Norfolk poet Esther 

Morgan and the seventeenth-century poet Alessandro Francucci, contrasting the moment a beautiful 

young singer enters a convent with the view of another woman looking out from a dark interior. 

www.musicasecreta.org 


Death of a Duchess 

Historical fiction or true crime? 


‘LM’ – a young girl from a wealthy and powerful 

family; ‘AF’ – an older man with an ancient and 

noble lineage. Their marriage is hastily arranged 

after the untimely death of LM’s older sister, AF’s 

intended bride. After a lengthy engagement, their 

childless marriage of less than a year ends with 

LM’s death at the age of 16. The official cause is 

tuberculosis, but rumours soon circulate that LM 

has been murdered, most likely poisoned, by her 

husband. There is a history of violent death in 

the family … 

Cue the Netflix true crime series vowing to get 

to the bottom of the story. Sadly, the witnesses are 

all dead and the documentary evidence is slim: 

a contemporary portrait of LM, a poem written 

some 300 years later and, now, a novel by Maggie 

O’Farrell entitled The Marriage Portrait, inspired 

by both. 

AF is Alfonso, the Duke of Ferrara, in need of a 

wife to provide him with an heir to his 900-yearold 

title. LM is Lucrezia de’ Medici, born in 1545, the 

third and last (legitimate) daughter of Cosimo I, 

the Grand Duke of Tuscany, and his wife Eleonora 

of Toledo. True to her place in the family, Lucrezia, 

at first glance, comes across as a Cinderella 

figure. Caroline P. Murphy’s excellent biography 

of Lucrezia’s older sister Isabella reports that, “at 

the Medici court, [oldest daughter] Maria earned 

praise for her graciousness, her rare beauty, and 

regal ways” while Isabella, her father’s favourite, 

was noted for her “liveliness and irrepressibility”. 

Lucrezia, on the other hand, was “less gifted than 

her sisters [and] attracted little comment.” 

The absence of hard evidence – letters, 

diaries, household accounts and inventories, on 

which biographies are often based – creates a 

void, which O’Farrell fills with imaginative and 

evocative prose to recreate Lucrezia’s story. The 

author remains faithful to the known facts of the 

young duchess’s life, with a few alterations “in 

the name of fiction” for narrative cohesion and 

to avoid confusion amongst various characters 

with the same names. The fictional Lucrezia is 

highly educated, having been tutored at home, 

along with her brothers. Although most girls in 

sixteenth-century Italy would have received little 

formal education, it was not unusual for young 

women of noble or wealthy families to receive 

the training necessary for them to be considered 

good marriage prospects. In the Grand Duke’s 

family, both the boys and the girls were taught 

Latin and Spanish (their mother’s language); they 

studied the works of philosophers and historians; 

they learned to play several instruments and 

became skilled equestrians. 

With no way to make use of the intellectual gifts 

so assiduously instilled by the family tutor, the 

fictional Lucrezia turns to painting as a creative 

outlet. While there is no evidence of the real 

Lucrezia having been an artist, she would have 


Above: Portrait of Lucrezia de’ Medici, Agnolo 

Bronzino, 1560, North Carolina Museum of Art, 

Raleigh. 

Right: Portrait of Alfonso II d’Este, unknown author, 

late XVII century, MET, New York. 


Above: Casa Guidi, where the 

Brownings lived during their 

time in Florence. 

Right: Maggie O’Farrell, (Image: 

Murdo Macleod). 

Far right: Lucrezia de’ Medici’s 

tomb at the Corpus Domini 

Monastery, Ferrara. 

grown up amid the masterpieces of the Medici art 

collection and been surrounded by palace walls 

frescoed by Vasari and other renowned artists of 

the Renaissance. Any art training she received 

would have steered her towards painting genres 

suitable for young women. Thus, it feels right 

when the fictional Lucrezia, who finds solace 

in painting fantastical scenes of wild imaginary 

creatures, hides them from Alfonso by covering 

them with the traditional still lifes deemed 

appropriate for women artists. 

It is also true, as the novel reveals, that the 

Grand Duke kept a menagerie of exotic animals, 

including lions, in the cellars below the Palazzo 

Vecchio. The roars of the lions could be heard 

by those passing behind the palace on the aptly 

named via dei Leoni, and no doubt would have 

fed the imaginations of the real Medici children 

as well as the fictional Lucrezia. It has been 

suggested that the foul odours emanating from 

the animal enclosures prompted the family’s 

subsequent move to Palazzo Pitti on the opposite 

side of the Arno. 

The ‘Marriage Portrait’ of the book’s title is an 

invention of the Victorian poet Robert Browning. 

His monologue ‘My Last Duchess’ is written in the 

voice of Alfonso. Addressing an emissary who 

has come to Ferrara to negotiate the recently 

widowed Duke’s next marriage, Alfonso draws a 

curtain and invites his guest to look at a portrait 

on the wall. “That’s my last Duchess painted on 

the wall/ Looking as if she were alive,” he says. 

He describes Lucrezia’s kind and happy nature 

but complains that ‘”she had a heart … too soon 

made glad … twas not her husband’s presence 

only” that drew her smiles; instead, she was “too 

easily impressed; she liked whate’er she looked 

on … [and] ranked my gift of a nine-hundredyears-old-name 

with anybody’s gift’”. Chillingly, he 

states, ‘”I gave commands; Then all smiles stopped 

together.’” Having made this startling admission, 

Alfonso resumes the tour of his artworks and 

returns to discussing the arrangements for 

marriage to another young girl. 

In an afterword to the novel, O’Farrell recounts 

that she had been rereading Browning’s dramatic 


monologues and came across a reference to 

them, as she was looking through her diary while 

waiting to collect her daughter from a play date. 

“I was thinking about ‘My Last Duchess’ and its 

brilliance in capturing the sinister narcissism of 

the Duke. In the space of a few lines, Browning 

conveys a man so assured of his position and 

authority that he thinks nothing of telling 

the family of his new betrothed that he had 

his previous wife murdered for the grave sin 

of smiling too much.” Searching Lucrezia de’ 

Medici’s name online on her phone, O’Farrell was 

struck by the image that appeared on the screen. 

“Here she was: the wife from the poem, the 

one kept behind a curtain which only the Duke 

himself was allowed to draw back, so he and he 

alone could control her smiles.” The seed for a 

new novel was sown. 

The painting that is often associated with 

Browning’s poem is a portrait of Lucrezia 

commissioned shortly before the future Duchess 

left for Ferrara. It has been attributed variously 

to Agnolo Bronzino (or his studio) or his nephew 

Alessandro Allori. This painting, possibly 

commissioned by Lucrezia’s brother Francesco, 

the future Grand Duke, did not travel to Ferrara 

but remained in Florence to be hung in one of 

the Medici palaces as a constant reminder of the 

absent princess. 

Browning and his wife, fellow poet Elizabeth 

Barrett Browning, lived for 14 years, from 1847 

to 1861, in rooms in the Palazzo Guidi, located 

opposite the south wing of the Palazzo Pitti which 

was Lucrezia’s childhood home. The Palatine 

Gallery of the Palazzo opened to the public in 

1828, so it seems Browning would have had an 

opportunity to view the picture. The original 

painting now resides in the North Carolina 

Museum in Raleigh while a much smaller copy, 

O’Farrell says, hangs in relative obscurity, “low 

down on a wall in a distant room of the Palatine 

Gallery, next to a fire extinguisher”. 

O’Farrell has said that it is not a coincidence 

that she wrote about a woman confined to a 

palazzo for her own safety (as all upper class 

Renaissance women were) during the Covid 


lockdown, when many of us experienced that 

strict confinement first hand. What better time 

to try to get into the mind of a woman who 

rarely went beyond the walls of her house 

while waiting for her husband to claim her and 

take her away to start a new life? The usual 

process of first researching and then writing a 

novel was reversed in the case of The Marriage 

Portrait, with the writing mostly completed in 

the spaces between home schooling and 

escapes for a daily walk around the local park. 

The research trip to Florence and Ferrara to 

take notes, visit locations and sketch maps 

came later, as soon as travel was permitted. 

When she was finally able to see the places 

Lucrezia had lived, O’Farrell was unprepared 

for the emotional impact this would have 

on her. “I hadn’t bargained for the effect of 

walking along a corridor where a person you 

have been thinking and dreaming about for 

two years had lived.” A visit to the monastery 

outside of Ferrara where Lucrezia was buried 

left her devastated. “When the custodian of 

the monastery told me that in all the time he 

had worked there, not a single person had ever 

before asked to see the grave of Lucrezia de’ 

Medici d’Este, I’m not ashamed to say that I 

cried. Because she had died a long way from 


her home and family, surrounded by people 

she barely knew.” This, too, resonates in the 

time of Covid. 

For a young woman about whom so little is 

known, it is striking that Lucrezia was the subject 

of a portrait by the pre-eminent artist of the 

Cinquecento in Florence, and commemorated 

in a poem by one of the most highly-regarded 

English poets. With so little hard evidence to 

go on, historical fiction becomes a way to tell 

stories of women whose lives would otherwise 

remain unknown. The Marriage Portrait is 

an immersive story that shines a light on a 

historical figure, capturing the setting and 

circumstances of her life, while reminding us 

about the deeper truths of human existence. 

As for the Netflix true crime series, Isabella 

de’ Medici, rather than her sister Lucrezia, might 

make a better subject. Cosimo I had looked 

out for his favourite daughter throughout her 

life and unhappy marriage to Paolo Giordano 

Orsini but, on Cosimo’s death, she no longer 

enjoyed this protection. It is widely believed 

that the new Grand Duke Francesco and Orsini 

conspired to murder Isabella, whose untimely 

death was explained as the result of an accident 

while washing her hair… RC 

Top: Seventeenth-century map of Ferrara 

Above: Central Ferrara 


‘More Bill’, many 

Kennedys 

A spotlight on Elaine de Kooning from ‘Restoration 

Conversations’ with art collector Christian Levett 

BEGINNINGS 

“About eight years ago, when I began collecting 

what would eventually become the Levett 

Collection in Florence, I was buying purely postwar 

paintings by both males and females, without 

differentiating between the two, but the more 

research I did, the more interested I became 

in the women painters. There’s a trend now, of 

collecting female artists,” explains art collector 

Christian Levett, during our autumn episode of 

Restoration Conversations, featuring his home 

gallery, open to museum docents, scholars and 

collectors for private research tours. Christian’s 

more than 100-piece collection features an 

impressive array of Abstract Expressionist female 

artists, including several ground-breaking works 

by New York-based artist Elaine de Kooning 

B(1918–1989). 


“At the moment, everyone is trying correct the 

past, in that the media worked out ten years ago 

that 95 percent of artworks on museum walls 

were by white male artists. It was a slightly 

different path for me, I was collecting both male 

and female – so, I bought Joan Mitchell, Helen 

Frankenthaler and Lee Krasner and male artists 

as well. Then I bought Elaine de Kooning’s 

portrait catalogue and became familiar with the 

‘Ninth Street Women’ show, where she and others 

were featured, and began thinking, ‘There is a 

whole group of women artists who should be 

brought back to the fore!’” The excerpts below, 

gleaned from Christian’s conversation, provides 

a ‘canvas-like window’ onto a few of the artist’s 

most famous works. 

THE BURGHERS OF AMSTERDAM 

AVENUE 

One of the major paintings of Abstract 

Expressionism was by Elaine de Kooning who 

began experimenting with Abstract portraiture 

in the 1940s, and continued to do so throughout 

her career. Possibly her most famous picture is 

named after the famous Rodin sculpture from 

1885, The Burghers of Calais. There are all sorts of 

Dutch connotations in it. It’s called The Burghers 

of Amsterdam Avenue; Amsterdam Avenue runs 

up into Harlem. She is Elaine de Kooning, married 

to Willem de Kooning, who is Dutch; and she 

wants to set it out like a seventeenth-century 

portrait, like a Night Watch or an early Rembrandtesque 

Dutch or Flemish family scene. When you 


stand back, you can see it’s a monumental multifigured 

portrait, but if you take any 50 square 

centimetres of the canvas, eliminating the heads 

and feet, all you will see is pure abstraction.A 

friend of Elaine de Kooning’s taught an art class 

at a drug rehabilitation centre on an island east 

of the Bronx, which is where de Kooning found 

these ‘sitters’. She wanted to create major political 

picture to draw attention to the terrible plight of 

drug addiction in New York in the 1960s – this 

was painted in 1963 – and it was the perfect year 

to paint a picture that would make a political 

splurge, because it was also the year she was 

painting the US president, JFK. 

PORTRAIT GESTURES 

In 1962, Elaine de Kooning was given a commission 

by the Truman Library in Missouri and she spent 

nearly all of 1963 painting pictures of JFK. He was 

assassinated in November 1963, and because she 

was so focused on this commission, she went 

through a long period of mourning, and didn’t 

paint much in 1964, until she finally delivered 

the commission to the Truman library in 1965 – 

almost 3 years after the original commission. She 

did a hundred or so sketches of JFK, and over 20 

paintings of all different sizes. This is the second 

or third largest one, in a wonderful pose, legs 

open casually, yet he was the president! 

Another telling portrait by Elaine is her 

depiction of Willem (Bill) de Kooning, from 1952. 

In the mid-1940s she starts painting oil portraits, 

using quite a dark palate; the faces are largely 

wiped, with almost no features to the face. 

Regarding this one, she once wrote, ‘As soon 

as I wiped off his face, it was more Bill’. Theirs 

was a turbulent open marriage, but there was 

a sweetness and connection that remained 

between them. The reason she didn’t paint face 

details is that she always said you learned more 

about a person from their posture, the way they 

carry themselves. She wanted to bring that idea 


through, because normally, when you 

look at a portrait, the first thing you do is 

look at the face, and the expression. She 

wanted to do the opposite, for us to look 

at the mass of colour, the general feeling 

and the position of the person. 

Previous page: The Burghers 

of Amsterdam Avenue, 1963, 

Elaine de Kooning, Levett 

Collection, Florence. 

(Image: Marco Badiani). 

Far left: The Levett Collection 

home-galllery, Florence, with 

Pat Passlof’s Stove, 1959, on the 

central wall. 

(Image: Marco Badiani). 

Above: John F. Kennedy, 1963, 

Elaine de Kooning, Levett 

Collection, Florence 

Bill, 1952, Elaine de Kooning, 

Levett Collection, Florence. 

Left: Self portrait, 1965, Elaine 

de Kooning, Levett Collection, 

Florence. 

BULLFIGHT 

She painted five of these ‘Bullfight’ 

paintings, and some are as large as 4 

metres long – one is in the permanent 

collection at the Denver Art Museum, for 

example. This one is acrylic on canvas, 

and it depicts a fantastic charging bull 

– one can see the spears and feathers 

charging out… the back of his shoulders 

and this violent action, and it is one of 

her most famous series of works which 

was extremely popular. I often think 

that this is the time Picasso is trying to 

introduce bullfighting into the south 

of France, from Spain, and we see a 

constant minotaur occurring in his work. 

It was 1959, and, in Europe, everyone 

knew Picasso; he would visit New York 

time and again, and here, we have 

Elaine de Kooning portraying bullfights 

because she’s been to Mexico and seen 

them. It’s an interesting connection. The 

movement here is unbelievable. He is 

charging head down… he’s absolutely 

flying – spears, feathers and everything 

– it’s powerful! She painted movement 

tremendously. RC 



“I am becoming 

somebody” 

Paula Modersohn-Becker at the Royal Academy of Art 


Four pioneering female artists of the avantgarde 

movement in Germany are the focus of a 

new exhibition at London’s Royal Academy of Art. 

Opening in November 2022, ‘Making Modernism’ 

features the work of Gabriele Münter, Käthe 

Kollwitz, Paula Modersohn-Becker and Marianne 

Werefkin. All four were working in Germany in 

the early 1900s, exploring themes of identity, 

representation and belonging. The Modernist 

movement in art began at the end of the 

nineteenth century. It was a rejection of traditional 

approaches to art, notably the realistic depiction of 

subjects, in favour of experimentation with form 

and colour, and a leaning towards abstraction. 

Expressionism, which was an early manifestation 

of Modernism, originated in Northern Europe and 

was particularly popular in Germany. 

With the exception of Kollwitz, who abandoned 

painting altogether after 1890, in favour of etching 

and, later, sculpture and woodcuts, these early 

Expressionist painters created works of startling 

simplicity and intense colours, with forms defined 

by dark outlines. Seeking to convey emotions and 

the responses that events arouse within a person, 

Expressionism is characterised by the use of 

vivid colours, and forms that have been reduced 

to their purest essence. Münter described her 

pictures as “moments of life … instantaneous 

visual experiences, generally noted very rapidly 

and spontaneously.” Werefkin was influenced by 

Van Gogh, Gauguin and Edvard Munch, as well as 

the ideas of the Nabis painters (such as Edouard 

Vuillard) whose works emphasised the flatness of 

the painting surface through the use of simplified 

areas of colour. 

Within this group of accomplished artists, 

Paula Modersohn-Becker stands out, partly 

because of the subject matter of her works and 

her unapologetic unidealised portraits of girls 

and women, and partly because she managed to 

develop her artistic vision and create a lasting 

legacy, despite dying at the age of only 31. 

Left: Paula Modersohn-Becker, Mother with Child on 

her Arm, Nude II, autumn 1906. Oil on canvas, 

80 x 59 cm. Museum Ostwall im Dortmunder U. 

(Photo: Jürgen Spiler, Dortmund). 


Left: Paula Modersohn-Becker, Self-portrait as 

a Standing Nude with Hat, summer 1906. Oil 

tempera on canvas. 40 x 19.5 cm. Paula Modersohn- 

Becker Stiftung, Bremen, on loan from a private 

collection. 

Right: Paula Modersohn-Becker, Girl with 

Child, 1902. Oil on cardboard, 45.3 x 50.5 cm. 

Kunstmuseum Den Haag, The Hague. 

Born in Dresden, Germany in 1876, Paula’s 

art studies began at age 16, when she attended 

drawing classes at St John’s Wood Art School in 

London. A few years later, she was admitted to the 

inaugural painting class at the Women’s Academy 

in Berlin. On her return to the family home (by 

then relocated to Bremen), she convinced her 

parents to allow her to attend another course at 

the nearby artists’ colony in the northern town 

of Worpswede. Here, she met her future husband 

Otto Modersohn, and began close friendships 

with the sculptor Clara Westhoff and the poet 

Rainer Maria Rilke. Finding the Worpswede style 

too refined and restrictive for her developing 

tastes, and having come into a small endowment 

from her uncle, in 1900 Paula joined her friend 

Clara in Paris where the latter had gone to study 

with Auguste Rodin. Paula enrolled in classes at 

the Academie Colarossi (where she went on to 

win first prize) and began the study of anatomy 

at the Ecole des Beaux-Arts, which had only just 

opened its doors to women. 

During her brief working life, Paula produced 

more than 700 paintings and over 1,000 drawings. 

Starting with landscapes and scenes of local 

peasant life in Worpswede, she soon concluded 

that painting people was more satisfying; she 

also felt that the conventional Worpswede style 

was too genre-like to render her emotional 

response to her subjects. She began to use a 

more restricted colour palette, deploying it in a 

symbolic rather than naturalistic manner. Paula is 

known in particular for her portraits of women 

and children, and for her nude self-portraits. With 

her Self-portrait on the 6th wedding Anniversary 

(1906) she became the first painter to have painted 

herself pregnant and nude. The apparent naivety 

and simplicity of her style mask a complex and 

conscious effort to find the essence of things, 

and, in her portraits of women especially, to 

reveal their humanity. 


Like many female painters, Paula struggled 

with the conventional expectations of her as a 

woman, and the difficulty of reconciling marriage 

and motherhood with her need to express herself 

as an artist. Her engagement in 1901 to Otto 

Modersohn came only months after his first wife’s 

death. The swiftness of this event, combined with 

the 11-year age gap between the two, concerned 

Paula’s parents only slightly less than the fact that 

her cooking skills were inadequate to keep her 

husband properly fed. They made it a condition 

of the marriage that she take cooking lessons. 

Sent to live with an aunt in Berlin to attend a twomonth 

course, Paula described it as a “culinary 

century” and was filled with longing to return to 

her studio and paintbrushes. 

Paula quickly discovered that marriage did not 

bring her the happiness she expected. In the 

first year of her marriage, she “cried a great deal 

and the tears often come like the great tears of 

childhood.” She was happier when she was away 

from Otto, and happier still when on her own 

in Paris, drinking in the paintings at the Louvre, 

taking drawing classes and, always, painting. In a 

letter to her sister, written during her final trip to 

Paris in May of 1906, Paula wrote, “I am becoming 

somebody—I’m living the most intensively happy 

period of my life.” In September of that year, Otto 

arrived in Paris for a six-month stay, and by the 

following March Paula had fallen pregnant. 

Paula Modersohn-Becker gave birth to her 

daughter, Mathilde, on November 2, 1907. 


Marianne Werefkin, Twins, 1909. Tempera on paper, 27.5 x 36.5 cm. 

Fondazione Marianne Werefkin, 

Museo Comunale d’Arte Moderna, Ascona. 

Marianne Werefkin, Circus – Before the Show, 1908/10. Tempera on 

cardboard, 53 x 88.5 cm. Leopold-Hoesch-Museum, Düren. 

(Photo: © Peter Hinschlaeger). 

Following a difficult delivery that lasted for two 

days, the doctor ordered Paula to stay in bed to 

recover. When it was finally considered safe for 

her to get up, eighteen days later, a little party 

was organised and a group of friends and family 

gathered to celebrate. After almost three weeks 

of immobility, Paula rose from the bed, then 

collapsed on the floor. Within hours she died of 

an embolism, from lying down too long. The last 

word she uttered was, “Schade.” A pity. Mathilde 

lived to be ninety-one. She and her half-sister, 

Elsbeth, the daughter of Otto Modersohn’s 

first wife, who also died young, lived together 

in Bremen where they both worked in health 

services and welfare. 

Praising his wife’s work, Otto Modersohn noted 

Paula’s “strength and intimacy” and described her 

as “an artist through and through”. Her talent 

was not universally appreciated, with an early 

exhibition of her work being subjected to an 

hysterical attack by the art critic Arthur Fitger 

who claimed to “feel sick” when confronted with 

Paula’s pictures. After her death, however, she was 

quickly taken up by the local art establishment. 

She was included in numerous group shows 

in Germany, and many museums and private 

collectors bought her works. The poet, Rilke, 

memorialised Paula in his Requiem for a Friend. 

The Paula Becker-Modersohn House in Bremen, 

which opened its doors in 1927, was the first 

museum in the world devoted to a female artist. 

Ten years later, the Nazis “purged” German 

museums of seventy of her paintings. Many were 

destroyed; some were exhibited as “degenerate 

art”, described as “a revolting mixture of colours, 

of idiotic figures … the dregs of humanity”. Her 

reputation survived, and in Germany today her 

work can be spotted on posters, magnets and 

postcards. Paula’s mother printed a selection 

of her daughter’s letters which was a huge 

publishing success, selling 50,000 copies between 

the two wars. 

In the month before she died, Paula told her 

mother, “I would so love to go to Paris for a week. 

Fifty-five Cezannes are on exhibit there now!” 

And, to her friend Clara, she excitedly wrote, “My 

mind has been much occupied these days by the 

thought of Cezanne, of how he is one of the three 

or four powerful artists who affected me like a 

thunderstorm, like some great event…. If it were 

not absolutely necessary for me to be here right 

now, nothing could keep me away from Paris.” 

There is something satisfying in knowing that, 

when the ‘Making Modernism’ exhibition opens 

at the Royal Academy in London, introducing 

Modersohn-Becker’s works to a new audience, 

her ‘mentor’ Paul Cezanne will be the subject of 

his own show – just a short trip across the river 

Thames, at the Tate Modern. 

‘Making Modernism’ is showing at the 

Royal Gallery of Art, London 

12 November 2022 – 12 February 2023 

The main reference for this article was Being 

Here is Everything, The Life of Paula-Modersohn- 

Becker by Marie Darrieussecq (2017). 



Marianne Werefkin, The Contrasts, 1919. Tempera on paper on cardboard, 

81.5 x 65.5 cm. Collection of the Municipality of Ascona, 

Museo Comunale d’Arte Moderna, Ascona. 

Gabriele Münter, Portrait of Anna Roslund, 1917. Oil on canvas, 94 x 68 cm. 

Leicester Museums & Galleries. © DACS 2022. 



Above, left: Gabriele Münter, Self-portrait, c. 1908. Oil on cardboard, 

49 x 33.6 cm. Museo Nacional Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid. © DACS 2022. 

Above, right: Gabriele Münter, Still-life on the Tram (After Shopping), c. 1912. 

Oil on cardboard, 50.2 x 34.3 cm. Gabriele Münter- und Johannes Eichner- 

Stiftung, Munich. © DACS 2022. 

Left: Erma Bossi, Portrait of Marianne Werefkin, c. 1910. Oil on cardboard, 

71.6 x 58 cm. Gabriele Munter- und Johannes Eichner-Stiftung, Munich. 

© The Estate of Erma Bossi. 

Right: Käthe Kollwitz, Self-portrait, 1934. Lithograph on paper, 20 x 18.7 cm. 

© Käthe Kollwitz Museum Köln. 




Sharing silk 

An interview with Elena Baistrocchi 

Fondazione Arte della Seta Lisio 

by Linda Falcone 

At Fondazione Arte della Seta Lisio Firenze, 

a team of (mostly women) weavers work on 

manually-operated Jacquard looms, constructed 

in the nineteenth century, to develop some of the 

loveliest velvets and brocades of the Florentine 

tradition. A 20-minute car ride from downtown 

Florence, this historic workshop, library, archive 

and study centre provides fundamental support 

to textile restoration laboratories associated with 

Amuseums worldwide. 



Previous page: The woven fabrics of Fondazione 

Arte della Seta Lisio Firenze, in its showroom and 

workshops. 

Left: The workshop. 

All photos from the Fondazione Arte della Seta Lisio 

Firenze Archives. 

Yet, restoration is just one of the many (silk) 

hats they wear at the ‘Fondazione Lisio’, whose 

statutory mission is the preservation of artistic 

silk production. It teaches the art of silk-making 

as well as a plethora of other fabric-based courses 

that range from ‘Lace Analysis’ to the ‘Recognition 

of Textiles’. Furthermore, the foundation’s 

production department works to create madeto-order 

fabrics inspired by traditional designs, 

but its showroom also boasts a surprising array 

of modern motifs where ancients technique 

meet the shapes and colours of modernity. The 

company was established in 1906 by Giuseppe 

Lisio, who moved to Florence from his native 

Abruzzo, after a stint in Milan. The original 

headquarters was the centrally located via de’ 

Fossi, where he set up shop, after registering at 

the local chamber of commerce, as a professional 

‘setaiolo’ or silk-maker. 


Left: Director Elena Baistrocchi, 

(Image: Stefano Casati). 

Below: A jacquard loom from the 1800s. 

Giuseppe’s daughter Fidalma Lisio, who 

would take over the company in 1954, nearly a 

decade after the founder’s death, purchasing the 

property which hosts the foundation’s presentday 

complex at Via Benedetto Fortini 143, near 

Ponte d’Ema. Fidalma is remembered as being a 

battagliera – a fighter – and a woman profoundly 

driven by her faith which was centred in Christian 

principles and a quest for the common good. Of 

practical mind and giving spirit, she created not 

only a factory on a hill, but an entire village, in 

which her labourers could live, work and access 

resources serving their entire family. Hence, she 

designed and constructed the factory, its canteen, 

a church, a kindergarten, an exhibition centre 

and a textiles school, not to mention employee 

housing. Currently, most of the complex’s 

buildings are used for education, production and 

exhibition purposes, but Fidalma’s creation is the 

last ‘workers village’ of its kind in the whole of 

Italy. Fidalma Lisio died in 2001, a woman rooted 

in tradition and ahead of her time. 

Inspired by the EU-funded project ‘Shemakes’ 

which held its consortium seminar in Florence 

this autumn, with the aim of addressing the 

gender gap in the textile industry and the 

importance of leadership roles for women, we 

interviewed Fondazione Lisio General Director 

Elena Baistrocchi, a former biologist, whose 

‘scientific past’ gives her a unique perspective 

on the ins and outs of craftsmanship and its 

fascinating phases. 

“Artisanship is a unifying force. In the apprentice 

phase, trainees learn to build relationships with 

someone who teaches them skills and shares 

their same values. This phase is one’s first 

approach, but as training continues, apprentices 

choose their masters well. No one ever chooses a 


Above: Weavers at the Florence 

workshop in the first decade of 

the 1900s. 

Right: In 1906, Giuseppe Lisio 

founded his first shop and 

workshop in Florence. 


Above and right: Some of the 

beautiful fabrics produced in 

the workshop. 

master who does not reflect the values they seek. 

Therefore, choosing one’s master is a powerful, 

democratic process. Young artisans choose the 

context of their first encounter. By ‘young’, I am 

not referring to one’s age. I am referring to 

experience level. I am 57 years old, and yet I am 

young as far as textiles are concerned. 

Interestingly enough, my field is not textiles, but 

Biology. I first came to the Foundation as manager 

of the textiles school, and was hired as director 

in 2019. I have experience in management and 

training, but I am an ‘apprentice’, in the sense 

that I am in the process of examining the art of 

textile-making in depth. Our weavers share their 

challenges with me, introduce me to the beauty 

of their technique – the strength of their gestures 

and the importance of their work at the loom. 

I do not find Biology a far cry from the study 

of textiles, no matter how strange that may seem. 

Biology is the study of life, and in the three phases 

of artisanship, I see many of the same processes 

characterising zoological development! 

In the artisans’ second phase, their selfawareness 

grows, and artisans begin 

experimenting with personal creativity. An 

emergent artisan strives to gain experiences, 

and severs the ‘umbilical cord’. They learn to 

craft their own philosophy, just as they craft 

their own product – based, of course, on ageold 

knowledge, and painstaking technique. 

Phase two is a moment of huge growth, and 

it is the time in which an artisan truly forges 

their own path, perfecting and expanding upon 

their skills. Of course, as one’s skills grow, an 

artisan gains the freedom to discover their own 

potential – and even more than that – they 

discover their individuality. This is the true 

power of craftsmanship: the ability to respect a 

standard, to uphold an age-old process, and all 

the while, to create a piece that is unique and 

unlike any other, simply because it was made in 

that moment, by that person, with its excellent 

‘imperfections’, thanks to which one’s finished 

product can be considered virtually perfect! 



In phrase three, an artisan becomes an elder. 

In primates, the ‘grandmother’ is tasked with 

taking care of orphaned young, and she is the 

one in charge of resolving conflicts within the 

group. The importance of her role cannot be 

underestimated. The same goes for humans! The 

‘grandmother’ is the master artisan who wants to 

pass on her knowledge, because that is the only 

way her work can become part of our universal 

heritage, otherwise, her expertise – and the 

craft from whence it came – is lost. In life, we’d 

compare it to the generational process that plays 

out between daughter, mother and grandmother. 

In life, we’d compare phrase three to the 

generational process that plays out between 

daughter, mother and grandmother. The artisan 

is struck by the desire to share all that she 

herself has learned. This is a vital phase. Italian 

laws complicate the traditional process of 

apprenticeship, making it difficult to hire the 

newest generations, so that they can learn from 

master artisans while they are still active. Without 

this opportunity, craftsmanship is lost, and we 

cannot allow this to happen. ‘The grandmother’ 

must be allowed to share her wisdom, and 

despite the generalised indifference that Western 

culture shows towards its elders, the mind, heart 

and hands of the aging artisan must be regarded 

as our greatest asset, deserving of our utmost 

respect.” RC 

An excerpt of this interview was published in 

The Florentine, October 2022. 

For more: www.fondazionelisio.org 



Grazie Mille 

As always, we are grateful to the collaborators and friends who support us 

in our mission to promote women’s achievements in all fields of endeavour. 

With the launch of Artemisia UpClose we extend our thanks, in particular, to Casa 

Buonarroti Foundation Director, Cristina Acidini, Casa Buonarroti Museum Director, 

Dr. Alessandro Cecchi, and art historians Elena Lombardi and Marcella Marongiu. 

We would also like to acknowledge the team at Arternativa who did a masterful 

job of removing Artemisia’s Inclination from the ceiling, releasing the dust of four 

centuries with the greatest of care. Thanks also to Olga Makarova and Ottaviano 

Caruso for creating photographic and video documentation of the progress of the 

painting’s restoration. We are especially grateful to our co-donor, Christian Levett, 

whose expertise as a museum director has added an important dimension to this 

project. 

A huge thank you is due to Head conservator Elizabeth Wicks and Project 

co-ordinator Linda Falcone who, together, conceived of the project and will be 

instrumental in carrying out its many facets. 

Finally, grazie mille to our media partner The Florentine for their invaluable 

support in spreading the word about the project and its importance in highlighting 

the contribution of women artists to Florence’s art history. 


A day in the life... 

Head conservator Dr Elizabeth Wicks uses a digital microscope to examine the 

condition of Artemisia’s painting at the Casa Buonarroti Museum. In addition 

to verifying the overall health of the canvas, Dr Wicks is studying the painter’s 

technique and comparing it to Il Volterrano’s repaints on a microscopic level. 

(Image: Olga Makarowa) 

Front cover: Detail of Artemisia's Allegory of Inclination, 1616, pre-restoration, 

Back cover: Detail of Artemisia's Allegory of Inclination, 1616, under raking light. 

Both images: Ottaviano Caruso.

Autumn/Winter 2022

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