Hi, my name is Maria Alambritis and I'm
the Vivmar Curatorial Fellow here at the
National Gallery. Let's take a look
together at this painting by the
Venetian artist Sebastiano del Piombo.
Its subject has intrigued and perplexed
generations of viewers and indeed
experts, as the label reveals its title,
'Judith (or Salome?)' leaves us wondering, is
this the courageous woman who defeated
her enemy Holofernes or the spiteful
seductress who danced in exchange for
the head of Saint John the Baptist. How
do you tell the difference between a
heroine and a femme fatale, and what can
this tell us about the way artists
experiment with iconography, the visual
tradition of motifs and attributes
associated with a particular subject.
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We encounter a woman portrayed at half
length, swathed in a voluminous blue dress.
She looks over her shoulder towards us,
her body twisting in a complex pose
carried through the curve of her back
and turn of her neck.
This dynamic contrapposto is grounded by
the strong horizontal and vertical grid
formed by the dark grey background
behind her.
The stone parapet above which her bared
arm hovers,
and the rectangular opening to the right
which reveals a landscape scene with
trees, buildings, and a distant Mountain.
And there in the lower right hand corner,
the unwholesome intrusion of a
decapitated human head.
The painting is dated 1510, the one thing
we know about it for certain, and it
arrived in the National Gallery
collection in 1910, exactly 400 years
after it was made. However before this we
don't know who commissioned it or why, so
we are left with a painting itself to
provide clues.
In the visual culture of Western
European painting, the image of a young
woman carrying a severed male head
suggests two possible identifications,
both drawn from Biblical narratives.
As I mentioned either Judith with the
head of Holofernes, or Salome with
the head of John the Baptist.
In the Old Testament Judith was the
beautiful Jewish heroine who, to protect
her people, left her besieged city of
Bethulia to enter the enemy Assyrian
camp and use her charms to gain access
to the tent of their General Holofernes
and decapitate him with his own
sword.
In the New Testament the Jewish princess
Salome dances at a lavish banquet for
her stepfather Herod, so impressing him
and his guests that he swears to grant
her an exchange any gift she desires.
Urged by her mother Herodias, who seeks
revenge on the Baptist for calling her
marriage to Herod unlawful, Salome asks
for the head of John on a platter. Unable
to break his oath, Herod orders his
executioner to behead him. Now by the
early 16th century the visual
conventions for depicting both Judith
and Salome were well established yet
here Sebastiano seems to switch between
both making it difficult to define
exactly who we are presented with. How do
we go about deciphering such an image?
According to the gospels of Matthew and
Mark, Salome receives the head of John
the Baptist on a metal salver, the silver
Plate depicted here.
In identifiable depictions of Salome by
other contemporary Italian artists, we
find dramatic compositions that play on
the tension of seduction and deadly
desire connoted by the figure of Salome.
The artist Giampietrino for example,
paints her in an opulent low-cut dress
and the executioner offers up her
horrifying trophy as she turns away, both
repelled and compelled by the macabre
consequences of her actions. Is then
Salome this lone woman whose side long
glance and bared arm demand direct
engagement? Is that a seductive glance
casting a dangerous potentially fatal
spell on the male viewer?
But if we want to call Salome a femme
fatale, we need to be aware that this
trope would become prominent in the 19th
century, particularly with Oscar Wilde's
infamous play of the same name.
Wilde characterises her as disturbingly
enamored with John the Baptist, demanding
his head in revenge for unrequited
passion. The type of the femme fatale would
have been an alien concept to Sebastiano.
Let's consider Judith now.
She is usually seen brandishing Holofernes'
own sword and placing his head
in a sack, ready to carry back to
Bethulia as proof of her heroic act.
She's often depicted with a maidservant
beside her. Her accomplice to murder.
But here we have no sword, maidservant,
or sack.
However in the early 1500s in Venice,
where this painting was made, images of
Judith were far more widespread than
that of Salome. Identified as a figure of
bravery who employed her beauty and
charms in an act of patriotic
self-sacrifice, to defend her city and
people. Judith came to be associated with
civic duty and justice. As a subject,
Judith was politically pertinent in a
republic city state that was fiercely
protective of its independence, and
therefore especially popular with
Venetian painters.
As depicted here by Catena.
Our picture presents a woman who seems
determined and decisive. There is
solidity and substance in her form. She
has not handed the head by a barely
executioner. She herself supports its
weight with her own strength. Certainly
no easy feat.
We have this extraordinary sleeve which
seems as if it has been sculpted around
her arm. The deep structured folds of
fabric emphasise her presence and give a
three-dimensional character to the
figure, suggesting she herself is
standing here in front of us.
The rolled up sleeve reads to us as a
marker of agency and effort. Indeed this
woman does not avert her eyes but looks
directly out towards us. This pose, this
gaze distinguishes her from the
squeamishness often seen in depictions
of Salome and imbues her with an
unnerving confidence.
So, could this in fact be Judith after
all, with Sebastiano taking artistic
license by borrowing a motif from the
narrative of Salome?
By displaying Holofernes' head on a
platter, we could see this as a means of
demonstrating Judith's valiant efforts
more clearly. While also allowing the
artist to show off his ability to paint
a convincing portrayal of the living and
the dead.
This Grim contrast between her fresh
rosy pink toned complexion and his
greenish pallid skin would not have been
so stark if Sebastiano had chosen to
half conceal the head in Judith's
traditional sack.
But the image seems to resist being
resolved. This woman's eyes glimmer with
emotion that is not easily readable as
defiance. She seems almost regretful.
Sebastiano makes her turn towards us as
if surprised. The uncertain mood is also
conveyed in the distant landscape. Is the
pinky orange glow behind the Azure
Mountain, the setting sun after a soiree
of fatal festivities? is it the dying
light symbolic of John the Baptist's
martyrdom?
Such a melancholy reading can also be
seen in Giorgione's 'Tramonto', the Italian
for sunset. With its strange disquieting
creatures emerging in the dusky glow.
Or is this the dawn breaking after a
night of valiant heroism, illuminating
Judith's escape from the enemy camp and
heralding her victory.
The same lights like that we see in
Titian's 'Noli me Tangere'.
Where the glory of Christ's Resurrection
is revealed to Mary Magdalene in the
tender glow of a newly awakening morning.
We may not know who this is painted for
or the details of the commission, but
this lavish use of ultramarine makes
this picture an incredibly expensive
item for a wealthy collector.
Perhaps a cultured patron who had a
specific idea in mind of the kind of
message they wanted to convey, or simply
enjoyed the stimulating power of visual
ambiguity.
Returning to our question, do we see this
woman as Salome, a dangerous villain, or
Judith, a celebrated victor.
Is this grisly offering the prize of
passion or the spur of a reluctant, but
necessary, seduction.
This painting is something of a
chameleon, shifting subject matter and
meaning dependening on who is doing the
looking. Perhaps we do not have all the
clues we may wish for to come to a
straightforward identification,
but this ambiguity reminds us of the
importance of looking and looking
closely, which can reveal more than his
appearance at first sight.
Sebastiano encourages us to pause while
challenging our assumptions, and explore
the multiple possibilities of this
Woman's identity.
Whatever you might decide I think we may
agree that Sebastiano certainly does not
hand the answer to us on a plate.
Thank you for watching, I hope you
enjoyed this video. If you'd like to
learn more about art history and our
collection you can click here or here,
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We'll see you next time
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