The Suicide of Lucretia: Women in Art

TW: partial nudity, knife/stabbing, discussion of suicide/mental illness

I just completed a short assignment for my art history course this semester. Our task was to write a brief description of an artwork that caught our eye, and why we love or hate it. This is what I submitted:

“Lucretia” is an oil painting on wood. It was painted around 1520/25 by Dutch painter Joos van Cleve. The painting depicts a woman in the act of stabbing herself while commiting suicide. It captures the moment when the knife has only slightly penetrated her flesh, and the first drop of blood falls. Her facial expression indicates pain and despair, almost as if life is already starting to leave her body. Her mouth is slightly ajar, implying a painful gasp. Her luxurious and finely painted clothes have fallen slightly off of her shoulders, and her bare chest is unobscured. Her headwear is also very ornate, with see-through ribbons floating around her. The ribbons are reminiscent of spirits, and seem to indicate that she is in the motion of swinging her head. Her clothing, combined with the dark and empty atmosphere created by the stark black background, create a haunting image. 

I have seen a few paintings depicting The Suicide of Lucretia before, and each time they bring me close to tears. The story is already sad enough: a woman being brought to suicide due to a rape. It brings to mind Artemisia Gentileschi’s tragic life story of being defamed due to a rape. To me, this painting is enraging and tragic. It is so violent, but also quiet and personal. She is still in a romanticized feminine form; even in death, her body and soul is a performance for the audience. In contrast, Artemisia's depictions of Lucretia have a distinct assuredness in their expressions and poses. This piece makes her suicide look almost as if it is outside of her control. She looks unsure, and her hands hold the knife without much force. Even the gore is understated, as if it would interfere with her femininity. In the most violent and decisive act one can perform in life, as a woman she still does not seem quite autonomous. 

(scroll down to see images for reference)

I think often about the place women hold in the art world. To clarify, when talking about "the art world," I am broadly referring to the Western tradition and Western institutions. Women are the subjects of an enormous amount of classical artworks, but it was never women painting them. It is rumored that the infamous painter of the Baroque era, Caravaggio, even used a drowned prostitute as a model for one of his paintings. In my mind this represents, albeit in a vile way, the extent of objectification of women in art. Even now, women only make up 13.7% of living artists represented by galleries in Europe and North America, according to The National Museum of Women in the Arts.

In my opinion, this puts me in a critical position as a student of art history. What is art really, if those who have defined it for centuries have, and continue to, exclude women? 

In childhood, I was absolutely sure that I would become an artist as a career. I had been "gifted" from a young age in drawing with a distinct sense of realism and dimension that none of my peers could recreate. For example, in preschool, I could draw a dog in profile with four legs, one overlapping the other. I actually remember discussing this with my twin brother. He thought there only needed to be two legs since it was in profile.

I was not in the position to apply for art school when I was a senior in high school. I had fought a violent battle against severe mental illness and suffered my first lesbian heartbreak (if you know, you know.) I had even decided that year, that I did not actually want to be an artist. In my mental anguish, I was encouraged by my peers, my art teacher, and really, society at large, to portray my disturbed thoughts and feelings visually. This was not a productive experience. Art became laborious, even painful. It didn't feel therapeutic or reflective. At worst, they could feed into compulsions and hallucinations.

This is around when I began questioning the nature of art itself. How does one evoke thoughts and feelings through an image? What is the intention of art? Who defines art?

To me, art shouldn't just exist in an art museum-- filled with classical and theological references for the small elite to interpret. The art world as it stands is built on fragile ground, based on wealthy patrons, of course. "Taste" is defined by those with money who decide which art seems collectible and what will appreciate in value overtime, or museums who have been well-established for a long time with a large budget. With this foundation, women would never be allowed equal representation, because that would require them to also have equal power as wealthy patrons and leaders of institutions. A woman would perhaps need to give into masculine expectations for her art to be recognized. 

This factored into my decision to not become an artist. I have immense respect for women, non-binary people, and others who decide to take on the challenge. I felt like I couldn't do it. 

To circle back to the beginning of this rant of mine, our knowledge and definition of art is, not even just exclusionary of women, but rests on their backs: our suffering, our bodies, our souls. Even in death, the decisive act of suicide, women were still not free. They were romantic objects of the male gaze. Mainstream challenges to major art institutions from women only began in the 1970's, merely 50 years ago. Most of my professors and classmates in the art history department are women, yet the majority of our classes will never touch on this inequality in a meaningful way. It is almost an unspoken rule. The art world values masculine viewpoints, and mostly indirectly so.

As viewers, we want production-value, large-scale, ambitious works. The necessary preparation and training for artworks of this scale are often inaccessible to women, let alone the confidence, funding, and the struggle to have others believe in your vision. A contemporary example stemming from one of my personal interests at the moment, is the once prominent position women once held in film production. Prior to the 1930's, women had a large hand in creating the Hollywood we know today, but once film was realized to be extremely profitable, women lost basically all positions of leadership. It all comes back to profit, doesn't it? Today, most people would not be able to name a female film director if they were asked. Even in art forms where women are prominent, such as ballet and dance, women must sacrifice so much, mentally and physically, to succeed.

Thank you for reading all of this. I know this wasn't a very composed or orderly blog post, but these are things I think about all the time. Let me know what you think in the comments.

“Lucretia” by Joos van Cleve

"Lucretia" by Artemisia Gentileschi