Artemisia Gentileschi was an underrated artist of the early Baroque period. Not because she wasn't any good, but because she was a woman. Now, she is considered to be one of the greatest painters to have been influenced by the Caravaggio, the love of my life. But at that point in time, she was overshadowed by her father. Trust me, I've seen their work placed side by side. Her father was no match for her at all. I'd even dare say she was equal to Caravaggio himself, but his use of lighting has yet to be surpassed. But I digress, this isn't an art review after all. I've just given you the background behind Susan Vreeland's The Passion of Artemisia. The life of artists have always fascinated me, I love finding people who are more neurotic and broken than me. But in Artemisia's case, there is no room for schadenfreude. From the depths of her anger and despair come artwork that can still move you to tears 5 centuries down the line. In this fictionalized version of her life, you'll find a scandal, much tragedy and Virgin Woolf-ish isolation. But I dare you to pity a woman who depicted herself chopping off her rapist's head.
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