Gentileschi’s c.1620 “Saint Catherine of Alexandria” presents the scholar-queen as a poised sovereign, using directional light, heraldic color, and restrained iconography—crown, palm, hint of wheel—to portray sanctity as thoughtful authority.
Artemisia Gentileschi’s c.1620 “Mary Magdalene” captures conversion as a luminous turn from shadow to light—silken folds, restrained symbols, and a decisive gaze—uniting psychological depth with Baroque material brilliance.
Artemisia Gentileschi’s 1619 self-portrait as Saint Catherine unites martyr’s emblems with the craft of a working painter, using focused tenebrism, heraldic color, and decisive gesture to transform devotion into a declaration of artistic authority.
In a sweeping domestic panorama, Artemisia Gentileschi’s 1635 “The Birth of Saint John the Baptist” centers midwives, water, and copper basin, turning a Gospel miracle into a vivid study of women’s labor, measured light, and destiny unfolding through everyday care.
Artemisia Gentileschi’s c.1631 “The Saints Proculus and Nicaea” presents a balanced duet of martyrs—red-robed deacon and steadfast woman—set before a stair and ruins, using measured light, precise gesture, and civic symbolism to portray courage as calm resolve.
Gentileschi’s 1630 “Annunciation” focuses on the exchange between Gabriel and Mary—lilies offered, finger to heaven, dove descending—using warm tenebrism, disciplined color, and a clear diagonal of meaning to render revelation as thoughtful consent.
Artemisia Gentileschi’s 1622 “Susanna and the Elders” turns a classic voyeur theme into a fierce study of coercion and resistance, using bright daylight, tactile materials, and a geometry of pressure-and-recoil to center Susanna’s agency.
Artemisia Gentileschi’s 1620 “St Cecilia Playing a Lute” renders the patron saint of music as a focused performer, using warm tenebrism, tactile fabrics, and a convincingly crafted instrument to turn devotion into the art of listening.
Gentileschi’s c.1636 “Adoration of the Kings” turns the Epiphany into an intimate encounter—centered on the Child’s hand and a kneeling king—using restrained tenebrism, tactile fabrics, and a tight semicircle of figures to make revelation human and near.
Candlelit suspense defines Artemisia Gentileschi’s late “Judith and Her Maidservant,” where a single flame, raised palm, and veiled trophy turn tenebrism into strategy and the aftermath of Holofernes’s beheading into a gripping study of escape.
A sweeping Baroque procession: Galatea rides a shell chariot amid piping tritons and coral-red reins, as Artemisia Gentileschi (c.1650) fuses motion, music, and maritime light into a poised vision of beauty commanding the sea.
Artemisia Gentileschi’s c.1650 “Bathsheba” frames the biblical heroine amid attentive maids, silver basin, and evening light, transforming a voyeuristic theme into a dignified terrace ritual through balanced composition, tactile fabrics, and ethical restraint.
Artemisia Gentileschi’s 1642 “Lucretia” captures the vow-filled instant before suicide—light striking marble and flesh, a hand raised to halt the world, dagger poised—turning a private trauma into a sober, civic drama of Roman virtue.
Artemisia Gentileschi’s 1640 “Minerva” portrays the goddess of wisdom as poised authority—spear upright, laurel crowned, and aegis with Medusa gleaming—using tenebrist light, amethyst drapery, and tactile metals to embody judgment ready for action.
Artemisia Gentileschi’s circa-1638 “Lot and His Daughters” stages the biblical aftermath in a cave, using warm firelight, tactile objects, and a tight triangle of gestures to capture the minute when wine, bread, and intent become a plan for survival.
Artemisia Gentileschi’s 1638 “Samson and Delilah” condenses betrayal into a half-length trio—Delilah, her accomplice, and the sleeping hero—using tenebrist light, eloquent hands, and the icy glint of scissors to capture the instant before Samson’s strength is shorn.
Artemisia Gentileschi’s 1637 “David and Bathsheba” sets the biblical sighting on a sunlit terrace, using balanced diagonals, architectural depth, and tactile details of water and fabric to contrast women’s domestic care with the king’s furtive gaze.
Artemisia Gentileschi’s 1637 “Corisca and the Satyr” captures a witty escape from Guarini’s Il pastor fido, using crossing diagonals, tenebrist light, and tactile fabrics to show the heroine fleeing as the satyr clutches only a false braid.