Orazio Gentileschi was born near Florence in 1563. From 1626 on he lived in England and worked for the Stuart king Charles I, who on the occasion of the birth of his son in 1630 commissioned Gentileschi to paint “The Finding of Moses” as a gift to his wife, Queen Henrietta Maria.
As moderns we are accustomed to seeing all art—musical, literary, pictorial—as invention. We know that the artist constructs his work. He plans out his composition. It’s always been done that way.
Let’s take apart this invention, this construction called “The Finding of Moses.”
What a lovely English landscape we have here in the background, with meadows leading to a river–the Nile/Thames–and a verdant hill on the other bank. The women are gathered in front of a stand of tall trees, in full summer foliage, possibly maples or elms. Not a palm or papyrus reed in sight. Gentileschi had never been to Egypt and neither had Henrietta Maria, so all’s well with the English shrubbery here.
The pharaoh’s daughter, in gold-yellow, is eight heads tall. We know that our ancestors, including royals, were shorter than we are now. No matter, tall looks commanding and besides, a tall figure will display more fabric, which allows the painter to create a more colorful painting.
The figure on the left is Moses’s mom, a slave and also six heads tall. Gentileschi wants her tall because that way the he aligns the tops of the heads in a horizontal line. Thinking ahead, we now notice that on the right the bodies are also aligned in a straight vertical line. He clusters the figures together into a compact geometry, which makes the composition cohesive and easy to read.
Now what about all these arms?! The two women pointing over yonder to the Nile/Thames clarify where the baby was found. Compositionally these two arms lead the viewer into the center of the drama. Three more arms converge on the center of attention, the baby in a basket. And what long arms they are. Gentileschi gets away with this anatomical distortion because the bodies are kneeling. If the two women in the font were to stand up, their hands would dangle at their knees. No matter. Composition rules. Composition directs the viewer’s attention. That’s what counts.
The baby is contentedly lying high on bedding piled up in the basket. So high, that it would have tipped over while floating in water. No matter. You’re a painter; therefore you invent what needs to be invented to make the picture work. The picture works if it FEELS right to the client and the occasion.
The baby is naked. And it’s a boy! The ancient Egyptian princess, dressed in 17th century English royal garb, is pointing to his genitals. Queen Henrietta Maria must have been pleased to project a parallel into this painting between Moses and her own newborn son. Gentileschi knew his craft, technically and politically.
Perhaps an ambassador described the charms of this painting to Philip IV, king of Spain, who might have expressed a desire to have a painting by Orazio Gentileschi. The king was known to appreciate art, visiting the studio of his court painter Velazques to sit quietly in his own regal chair just to watch Velazquez paint. Gentileschi, ever the diplomat, then painted a copy of “The Finding of Moses” for Philip IV and engaged his son to personally deliver it to the king in Spain.
Notice that he changed the overall composition. He makes two alterations to change the composition from a rectangle to a quarter of a pie. The two arms pointing to the Nile are gone and the woman at the far right who is kneeling while holding the basket is now heavily draped and conspicuously plump compared to the other women in the group. She is plump because she has to support the curve of the composition.
This painting hangs in the great central gallery at the Prado. Eight women in a painting! You can see from a long distance away that this has to be a Gentileschi.
His daughter, Artemisia Gentileschi, will be next.
All contents copyright (C) 2010 Katherine Hilden. All rights reserved.
artamaze by Katherine Hilden 