We're in the National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC, and we're looking at a Baroque painting by Judith Leister. This is a self-portrait. I use the word Baroque, which is interesting, because she is in the Baroque period. But when we think about Baroque, we might think about Bernini or Caravaggio. or the Italian Baroque and that sense of drama and energy.
And here we are looking at a self-portrait. So what makes this Baroque? It's not a religious painting.
Right, it's not the elevation of the cross or the ecstasy of Saint Teresa. This is the Northern Baroque. This is the Dutch. much Baroque.
And at this point in the 17th century, the Netherlands had broken away from Spanish control and had established an independent republic. And in this republic, it was the merchant class that was buying art, and it was a really good time to be an artist. Especially if you could get into the guild, and Judith Leyster did get into the guild.
By guild, what I mean is something that's close to the 21st century notion of a trade union. And so this was the Guild of St. Luke. If you weren't in the guild, you really couldn't establish a proper studio.
With students, commissions would be much diminished. Dr. Leister was a professional artist, and obviously she's a woman, and that combination was rare. We should say, too, that this is Holland, where Protestantism is the main religion, and so artists are not being commissioned by the church.
Dr. The big difference here is that we don't have the heavy-handed subject matter of religion. Instead, this is an artist at work who's just turned to talk to us for a moment, and there is that real sense of spontaneity. And you get that not only by the way by the awkward momentary position of her body.
For instance, her elbow is resting on the point of the chair. It can't be comfortable. You know she's not going to hold that for more than just a second. Her brush is poised. She's turned around.
She's been interrupted. And there's also that Baroque sense of closeness. There's not a lot of space between her and us. That elbow is foreshortened coming into our space.
The brushes on the lower right are foreshortened. There's that breaking of the barrier between the viewer space. in the space of the painting that we see often in Baroque art.
Those brushes seem as if they're coming a little too close to us. She draws our eye up the angle of those brushes, past that wonderful flat plane of the palette, and I love this, with a representation of raw paint on the palette that she carefully painted. Right.
It's particularly close to the portraits of Franz Hals. She and Franz Hals were contemporaries, art historians of conjecture that she may have studied with Franz Hals or been his apprentice. but there's really no documentation to show that. But look at how loosely painted that rag is, or the lace on her sleeve, or especially that pink satin or silk of her skirt. Now she probably wouldn't have worn this clothing when she painted, so she's showing herself dressed up, probably to show her importance, her position.
The higher position of art itself. This is so self-consciously entangled. She's here painted a canvas that is a painting of a canvas, and a rendering of a figure.
that was a very typical type in the 17th century called the Merry Company. If we look under the surface of paint, we can see that she had originally rendered a different figure, a female figure, perhaps a self-portrait. So this would be a self-portrait of her painting, a self-portrait. But instead, she decided to depict a type of subject that she was known for as a painter. The image of a musician or a singer or Merry Company pictures.
She could sell herself as both a portrait painter and a genre painter to this new art. art buying public in Holland in the 17th century. Dr. Also, possibly to the Guild, there's conjecture that this was a presentation piece. She would have presented it as she came into the Guild just a few years later.
Dr. She displays a remarkable self-confidence and ease, considering she's only 21 years old. Her work was lost to us until the late 19th and early 20th century, and many of her works were ascribed to Frans Hals. It's tempting to look at this through the lens of feminism, through the lens of religion, women's oppression. We certainly don't talk about the work of male artists as the work of men.
So the question then is, how do we look at a painting like this, acknowledging its separate history as the work of a woman, and yet also take the painting on its own merits, her skill on its own merits?