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Who is Artemisia Gentileschi?

In January 2014,the New York Rockefeller Center played host to anauction of fine art. More than 500 years of European art were represented,led by a rare self-portrait of a Baroque artist called Artemisia Gentileschi.

Gentileschi was described in the catalogue as “among the boldest and most powerfully expressive woman painters in history”,and herSelf-Portrait as a Lute Player came with an estimated sale price of between $US3-5 million.

Gentileschi has captivated art critics and the public alike. Germaine Greer devoted a chapter to Gentileschi in her 1979 bookThe Obstacle Race,and her works have been the subject of touring exhibitions.

Artemisia Gentileschi's Self-Portrait as a Lute Player&nbsp;(1616-18).

Artemisia Gentileschi'sSelf-Portrait as a Lute Player (1616-18).

She was born in Rome on July 8,1593,the daughter of Orazio Gentileschi – a moderately successful painter of his time and a student and friend of Baroque master Michelangelo Caravaggio.

Late in her teens,Gentileschi was working and living in her her father’s studio,which doubled as their home in Rome’s Via Corso. She was not taught to read or write,but she could paint and by age 17 her work had already showed considerable talent.

In 1611,Orazio hired Agostino Tassi,a fellow painter,to tutor his then 19-year-old daughter privately while he worked on a big commission.

But in March 1612,Orazio approached Rome’s criminal tribunal and presented a petition accusing Tassi of the “forcible deflowerment” of his daughter.

The trial heard that on May 6,1611,Tassi entered the Gentileschi's house and “as an ungreeted guest went to Artemisia. He found her painting ... and on that very day Agostino deflowered Artemisia and left.”

Afterwards,Tassi promised to marry Gentileschi,but this proved a lie when it was discovered that Tassi’s wife was still alive.

“On that very day Agostino deflowered Artemisia and left.”

Testimony from the trial of Agostino Tassi,May 1611

Gentileschi’s testimony during the trial was tested by torture,described as the tightening of strings around her fingers. But she stuck to her story,an account of which was published in the UK’sIndependent newspaper in 1993.

“When we were in front of the bedroom door,he pushed me in and locked the door. He then threw me onto the edge of the bed,pushing me with a hand on my breast,and he put a knee between my thighs to prevent me from closing them … I tried to scream as best I could. I scratched his face and pulled his hair,” went her testimony.

“When I saw myself free,I went to the table drawer and took a knife and moved toward Agostino saying:‘I’d like to kill you with this knife because you have dishonoured me’ … I wounded him slightly on the chest and some blood came out,only a little since I had barely touched him with the point of the knife.”

Artemisia Gentileschi'sSelf-Portrait as the Allegory of Painting(1638-39).

Tassi tried to slur Gentileschi’s character,accusing her of promiscuity,but he failed and was sentenced to five years’ exile from Rome under threat of the gallows.

Gentileschi went on to great success within her own lifetime,becoming one of the first women to be accepted into the Florence Academy and undertaking commissions for the Medici court.

She later moved to Florence where she enjoyed an acquaintance with well-known figures of the time,including Galileo Galilei.

In his own words:Charles Bennett Taylor describes his ongoing fascination with the Mother and Child painting.

Body of a child,head of a monster

More than 300 years later,the story of Gentileschi’s rape was at the front of Matthew Moss’s mind.

In 1979,as Moss was restoring the piece and looking closely at the child,he began to see the face of Agostino Tassi.

“The baby in our painting might be an indirect reference to Agostino Tassi,” he wrote in an essay published in the openonline journalAcademia. “The painter has created the likeness of a Goya-like infant … it has the head of an adult attached to a child’s body.”

It’s an interpretation that is difficult to prove given there is no known portrait of Tassi,but the possibility and the unusual arrangement has raised eyebrows among specialists across the world.

Attributing ownership to a historical painting can be a fiddly,uncertain and agonising affair. The stakes are high and the outcome often unfavourable. It’s not just money on the line – reputations are made and tarnished on the back of such discoveries.

In early 1992 Taylor wrote to Mary Garrard,an authority on Gentileschi’s art,then at the American University in Washington.

Her reply poured cold water on Moss’s theory.

In a letter from 1992,Mary Garrard – an expert on Gentileschi from The American University – cast doubt on Moss's theory,but remained intrigued by the painting.

“I wish I could be more encouraging about the Gentileschi attribution,but to judge only from the photograph and transparency,I do not see a close affinity with her style,” she wrote in a letter.

But she did admit to being perplexed by the work. “The theme of this one really stumps me … curiously,it is the oddity of the theme that most recalls Gentileschi.”

For Taylor the trail went cold after this letter,and his attempts to contact the previous owners proved fruitless.

Up until recently the story of the painting ended there,but a Fairfax Media investigation takes it back further still and can for the first time reveal some more of its history.

The Genoa connection

It was 1947 and First Officer Petter Lennart Lilja had just arrived in the port town of Genoa aboard a Swedish cargo ship called the Consul Corfitzon. He had joined the crew the year earlier,after serving aboard a Swedish navy minesweeper during World War II.

Swedish cargo ship Consul Corfitzon.

These were interesting times in Italy. The country was undergoing seismic political and social upheaval and trying to repair its devastated economy in the wake of World War II. Just a year earlier it had voted to become a republic,and in doing so banned members of the royal family – one of Europe’s oldest – from entering the country.

The old world was being dismantled and some of its most precious belongings were coming on to the market for the first time. It was a period when many classical paintings were being offloaded in what,by modern standards,could be considered a fire sale.

Lilja never considered himself an art connoisseur according to his family,but he did enjoy picking up trinkets and trophies from the ports he visited across the world.

Swedish mariner Petter Lennart Lilja migrated to Australia in 1948.

“In Italy we discharged in Genoa,” he wrote in his memoirs,written many years later and given to close family. “There we took the opportunity to search out antique paintings for sale.[Captain] Paulsson and I each bought one.”

In the same year as Lilja was in port,newspaper articles show that Gentileschi art was also coming on to the market through art galleries based in the region.

A small article in one of Italy’s oldest newspaper,La Stampa,advertised the sale of classical artworks belonging to “The Swiss heirs of Marquis Pier Luigi Rossano of Walfrey”. The article,printed in April 1947,states that paintings for sale included the works of Orazio Gentileschi – Artemisia’s father. In time,some of these paintings would go on to be attributed to Gentileschi herself. The sale was taking place in Turin,by the “Torricelli Galleria in Genoa”.

An ad in Italian newspaperLa Stampa from April 20,1947,mentions the sale of Gentileschi paintings by "Torricelli Galleria in Genoa”.

There is no evidence that the painting Lilja bought in Genoa was the same painting later purchased by Taylor. But his surviving family said Lilja bought only a very few classical paintings,and the Mother and Child was the most prominent amongst them.

In 1948 Lilja’s employer,shipping company Rederiakiebolaget Helsingborg,began expanding its operations into the South Pacific. Lilja migrated to Australia,settling in Pymble in Sydney’s upper north shore.

In the late 1960s,Lilja made a valiant effort to discover who the painter was. On December 12,1967,he wrote to the Netherlands Institute for Art History to inquire whether the painting was by a Dutch artist. Three weeks later,Dr A. Baart from the institute responded.

The letter Lilja received back from the Netherlands Institute for Art History in 1967.

“I have the honour to inform you that your painting dates indeed from the 17th century. However this painting is certainly not Dutch,but Italian. Probably from the Naples School;there is a certain relation with the work of the Gentileschis (father and daughter),” the letter read.

Lilja went on to write to the Museo di Capodimonte in Naples,which,on March 15,1968,responded:“For what it is possible to judge … it can not be excluded that the painting in question may be the work of Artemisia Gentileschi,daughter of Orazio. However,this attribution is advanced with all the necessary reservations for not having direct knowledge of the work.”

Without a firm attribution,Lilja decided to sell the painting,handing it over to Gallery Firenze in Crows Nest,where Charles Bennett Taylor spied it while rummaging through the artworks on that winter’s morning in 1976.

The attribution game

The discovery of a lost masterpiece is a rare occurrence,but not unheard of in Australia. In the summer of 2011 a representative from fine art auctioneers Bonhams visited a Melbourne household to look at some fine porcelain. Hanging on the wall,she noticed a cute little painting of peaches,just 31 x 23 centimetres.

Eight months later it was revealed as the work of Adriaen Coorte,a celebrated Dutch still-life painter. It was sold at auction in London for £2.1 million,well over its pre-sale estimate of up to £500,000,setting a record price for the Dutch artist.

But these stories are rare. And even if a painting survives rigorous forensic testing,it must then endure academic scrutiny.

This still-life by 17th-century Dutch painter Adriaen Coorte was discovered in a Melbourne home in 2011. It later sold at auction in London for £2.1 million.

“It is not uncommon to come across 19th-,18th-,17th-century works in Australia,” says Merryn Schriever,an art specialist at Bonhams. “It is just hard to find one that is the hand of the master and not the student.”

During Gentileschi's era it was not uncommon for artists to use students to make copies of their works. “Prior to photography that was a standard part of learning to paint,” explains Schriever. “So there are many copies,of many works,from many studios,and here in Australia there is a lot of that material too.”

“Some aspects of the painting seem consistent with Gentileschi … but others don’t.”

– art historian Jesse Locker

Jesse Locker,a specialist in the Renaissance and Baroque periods and author ofArtemisia Gentileschi:The Language of Painting,is reticent to give an opinion on the Mother and Child without seeing a high-quality reproduction,but does say there are “some aspects of the painting that seem consistent with Gentileschi … but others that don’t”.

He is not convinced by all of Matthew Moss’s claims,but says it is certainly possible such a work could have ended up in Australia.

“Stranger things have happened with paintings.”

Taylor’s gift

Now aged 94,Charles Bennett Taylor keeps the painting at an undisclosed location under lock and key. He is convinced it is the work of Artemisia Gentileschi:“She jumps out of that painting as a real person.”

Earlier this year he rang his lawyer Stewart Levitt to organise his will,including final arrangements for the painting. He says he never bought the painting as an asset,but accepts it may be sold after his death. But before it is potentially whisked away by a new buyer,he wants the public to see it and enjoy it as he has.

“On the premise that the painting is a genuine Gentileschi,Ben has wanted to share the painting with the people of NSW,” says Levitt.

Last week,one of Australia’s most respected art conservationists,David Stein,picked up the painting. It was the first time he had a chance to view the work up close. From only an initial cursory look,he says the painting appears to be of the right vintage to be a Gentlileschi.

“It’s difficult not being able to see the original canvas,but I can see where there is a tear in the lower right corner … the weave is consistent with canvas coming from the 18th century or before,” he says.

“There are passages that are really well painted … It is an interesting subject,but beyond that,I just I can’t elaborate.

“It needs more investigation.”

Can you provide more information about the painting? Email Mario Christodoulou atmario.christodoulou@fairfaxmedia.com.au

Words Mario ChristodoulouPhotography&video Steven SiewertMultimedia editor Matt TefferInvestigations editor Michael EvansFeatures editor Aparna KhopkarPhoto editor Mags King