FTC's Production Outshines Script in Lush "Artemisia"
There is an enchanting, captivating quality to the light in the work of 17th century Italian painter Artemisia Gentilieschi, who is known for her masterful use of highlights and shadow. The rich, golden light in Artemisia’s paintings embraces the subject matter – frequently women from biblical stories and mythology – caressing the naturalistic, rounded curves of their bodies, and reveling in the textures of luxurious folds of fabrics. That same light draws audiences into Forward Theater’s visually stunning world premiere production of Artemisia, performed in the Playhouse at Overture Center through April 30. The result of a compelling vision by Forward Artistic Director Jennifer Uphoff Gray, the production paints grand, gorgeous pictures of a woman who centered fully realized women in paintings for the first time.
Commissioned by Forward as part of the World Premiere Wisconsin festival, the new play by nationally known playwright Lauren Gunderson explores the life of one of the few successful women painters of the Renaissance. Like Gunderson’s other works highlighting the accomplishments of forgotten women from history, (The Revolutionists, Silent Sky, Emilie: La Marquise du Chatelet Defends her Life Tonight, Ada and the Engine, The Half-Life of Marie Curie) Artemisia focuses on the grit and perseverance necessary for a woman to succeed in a male-dominated profession, in an era when being intelligent, innovative, and naturally gifted were not enough.
Photo by Ross Zentner
Notes on the Production
From the meticulous, sumptuous costume design by Scott Rött, to the evocative, flexible scenic design framed by deep red velvet drapes by Christopher Dunham, to that gorgeous golden light, designed by Noelle Stollmack, to the carefully focused projections of portions of Gentilieschi’s paintings, the entire production celebrates the rich palette of Artemisia’s world from centuries ago. It is a lush canvas for an almost peerless cast to work and play on, over the intermission-less 100 minutes.
At the top of the show we are introduced to Artemisia as a strident, headstrong teen (Madison Uphoff), whose talent for color, composition, and technique have already been recognized by her artist father Orazio (James DeVita). Locked in a battle of wills from the start, the two painters spend the play analyzing and criticizing each other’s work, strategizing for ever more prestigious commissions, and testing their love for one another. When Artemisia is raped by Agostino Tassi, an artist to whom Orazio had ingratiated himself in hopes of working for the Vatican, father and daughter are plunged into even greater tumult, weighing their options for justice, preserving the family’s honor, and revenge. After a heart wrenching scene on the stand, where accusers of sexual assault were routinely tortured to test the truth of their claims, Artemisia is married off to preserve her reputation.
In the second half of the play, Clare Haden portrays a more mature and more measured Artemisia, who has become a successful painter while managing the stress of money problems, pregnancy, motherhood and repeated infant loss in her perfunctory marriage. While impressing the upper classes with her portraiture, the artist carves out some happiness with a wealthy (also married) paramour Francesco Maringhi (Daniel Molina), and continues feuding with her father. Doubting her talent and out of inspiration for creating yet another scene of women being attacked by men, the last moments of the play see Artemisia asserting her person-hood vicariously through a painting depicting women as a power to be reckoned with.
The brilliant cast makes the sometimes uneven story eminently worth watching. Uphoff gives the play a strong start as the willful young artist who sees the world in plain, binary terms and her own talent as limitless. Her testimony about the sexual assault – while her hands are bound – is particularly gripping and depressingly familiar. Uphoff also sets up the impressively complicated relationship with her father that will serve as a throughline of the play, along with Artemisia’s refusal to act according to society’s expectations.
As her father, mentor, protector, artistic rival, and often self-interested adversary, DeVita mixes competing impulses deftly as he genuinely tries to communicate his love for his daughter. Embodying his weariness and advancing age with progressively more pronounced stoop and labored steps as he mounts the stairs, the weight of his difficult relationship with his only daughter is obvious. And as he does so adroitly with classical texts, DeVita effortlessly infuses his lines with meaning that goes far beyond what’s written on the page.
Haden’s portrayal of Artemisia in later life is nuanced and colored by the artist’s personal tragedy. The older painter is no less determined than her younger self, but she navigates the world more carefully, making alliances with nobles and understanding the costs of her unorthodox life and career. Haden displays an entire spectrum of emotional truth in this role – glowing in golden light one moment, fanning an overheated lust with her long skirts the next, and then articulating a primal rage a heartbeat later. As her love interest Francesco, Molina is part finance geek and part prince charming – supporting Artemisia as an admirer of her talent and her passion. Unlike the other men in the play, this lover treads lightly and Molina does an excellent job portraying a thoughtful hesitancy alongside undeniable attraction.
And playing several smaller roles, Laura Gordon illuminates all of her scenes. As Artemisia’s mother, she is an earthy, gentle voice of reason. As the artist’s rich patron, she demonstrates the power, personal freedom, and joy that a woman can have when money is no object. And as English Queen Henrietta Maria, she represents the international accolades that Artemisia received. But underneath these plot devices Gordon creates quirky, textured, and elegant women who were distinct friends and allies to the painter. Like DeVita, she easily transcends the words in the script to bring warmth and specificity to each part.
Notes on the Play
Lauren Gunderson is no stranger to biography – she has created her own cottage industry out of historic biographies of female pioneers in many fields. And she has acknowledged that she takes many liberties with the source material – most noticeably that her characters use ultra-modern language in order to make the modern similarities of their stories transparent to a contemporary audience. While this mixing of genres may work in other productions, in Forward’s Artemisia it grates. The details of the time and place depicted are so complete and glorious that lines like “I f-ing love you, you son-of-a-bitch,” don’t just feel anachronistic, they feel blunt and crude. The number of four-letter words employed in this script also feels excessive, when something more creative could have been easily substituted.
Ironically, Gunderson’s script is hobbled by both her adherence to historical facts and the shortcuts she takes as she skims the surface of actual events. Scholars in the New Yorker article that the playwright read as her first inspiration for the play warn against viewing Artemisia’s rape in a modern context. They also express skepticism that her sexual assault was directly responsible for her artistic style. By skipping over the more complicated 17th century world view, Gunderson gets an easy knee-jerk reaction from the audience in the first half of the play and draws facile straight lines between trauma and art, where far more interesting journeys existed. Exaggerating the length and depth of Artemisia’s relationship with her lover Francesco also undermines the truth of her actual accomplishments – becoming a great success, completely on her own.
In the play’s second half, the author’s allegiance to real events hurts the dramatic structure of the play. There is a reason that most bio-pics compress events, heighten the stakes, and add in or subtract characters – it makes a better story. This play suffers narratively because Artemisia doesn’t have a clear objective and her plot doesn’t have a climax. Instead the story simply trails off. She is portrayed living her life, having some setbacks, and continuing to paint, which is interesting but not compelling.
As a first production of a new play, one can expect that rewrites will follow, and there are hints that this could be molded into a more satisfying examination of a father-daughter relationship. There are also interesting breadcrumbs at the play’s start about what makes a great painting – story versus technique. And one of Artemisia’s most significant accomplishments – being the first woman admitted to the Accademia delle Arti del Disegno (Academy of the Arts of Drawing) could potentially get more than a word in passing.
There is no doubt that Artemisia Gentilieschi was a fascinating artist and historical figure of great talent and pluck. She has already inspired a handful of plays, novels, and films, and her work is receiving more and more attention from scholars. Gunderson and Forward Theater should be congratulated for shining additional (golden hued) light on her accomplishments, and for starting a conversation about the challenges that female artists faced hundreds of years ago, while drawing parallels to modern day.