Elisabetta Sirani and Her Image of Timoclea, By Emer Ní Fhoghlú
The year is 335 BC. Warfare has reached a deadly peak. The city of Thebes has been pillaged by the invading forces of Alexander the Great. The city is on the brink of annihilation – tens of thousands will be enslaved. Amidst the chaos a woman named Timoclea is raped by a Thracian captain, who then has the gall to ask her has she any hidden money. She says she does, leading him to a well where she pushes him to his death and pelts him with stones from above (to be sure). Alexander lets her off with it, charmed by her stories of a valiant, male relative of high status. Until a 1629 engraving, only the aftermath of the murder is artistically depicted in order to show Alexander as a figure of mercy. It isn’t until 1659 that an oil painting is unveiled depicting Timoclea’s revenge in vivid colour.
The year is 1638. Elisabetta Sirani is born to a world of satin and velvet. She will be trained as an artist in her father’s studio, at first to his chagrin, but he can’t continue to deny the girl has an aptitude. She will go on to inherit his workshop, and open an academy to train female students. She will be the breadwinner of her family. She will die aged only 27, most likely due to a ruptured ulcer, although her maid will be put on trial for murder. Second to outright conspiracy, Bologna of 1665 loves a tale of death by heartbreak, and rumours abound.
Of the 200 paintings she produced, it is Timoclea’s revenge that has captured the fascination of our modern gaze. It certainly seems to declare “me too.” Sirani’s oil painting is a reworking of Matthaus Merian’s depiction of the murder scene, but her Baroque update not only places Timoclea as a Baroque woman, but also shows the face of the soldier coming to terms with his fate.
Through costuming we must wonder how much of a self-insert the figure becomes not only to the painter. This depiction of an overtly 17th century woman engaged in revenge allows a female viewer a cathartic lens for the violence she herself likely suffered within an intensely patriarchal society. Although her skirts have no panniers, this stylised Timoclea mimics the feminine ideal of Sirani’s time, just as our beach-waved hair in period dramas mimics our own – rather than this stylistic choice saying much about the 19th century, it says more about our own ideas of how women should or shouldn’t look. Timoclea here wears a bodice in line with 1659, the year she was painted, while her rapist’s costume is far more aligned with 330 BC.
Dressing historical figures in contemporary garments wasn’t something new for the time. However, within the context of Sirani and Timoclea’s lived experiences, the anachronism takes on a more powerful meaning, critiquing 17th century ideals. Sirani inherited a legacy that worshipped all things Classical – ideals from cultures that relegated women to the level of chattel. Alongside her training in paints and anatomy, she was taught Classical studies, Bible history, and mythology. Sirani’s depiction of a Baroque Timoclea murdering a Classical warrior becomes quiet revolt against the ruling ideology.
Sirani is often compared with Gentileschi, decades her senior. However, Sirani doesn’t depict her women in the grip of violent rage, no matter the violent acts they perform. It’s their dissonant serenity that enchants as much as it disturbs, observing their victims experiencing the terror previously inflicted upon them. It’s position of distance – with a hint of contempt, in the case of Timoclea. Regarding her depiction of Judith, these female figures, far from being blood-thirsty, become presences bordering the celestial. Judith in Sirani’s composition takes pride of place often associated with the Madonna – the surrounding cast are diminutive. Gentileschi shows Judith and her maid in grisly teamwork. Sirani instead shows isolation. Her protagonists carry their burdens alone, and although they stand tall against the weight of their assailants and their task of revenge, we must acknowledge how this isolation encompassed the painter and the women of her time, no matter what foothold of power they managed to take hold of.