Theater Review by Carol Rocamora . . .
Artemisia Gentileschi (1593-1656), the subject of Kate Hamill’s passionate portrayal in The Light & the Dark—written by Kate Hamill and now playing at 59E59 Theaters—was the greatest female artist of the Renaissance, with quite a dramatic life story to tell. She was born in Rome, the daughter of a painter of moderate success and a mother who died when she was only twelve. Trained at the age of fourteen by her father, she was influenced by the towering artists who came before her—notably Caravaggio and Michelangelo—and displayed a brilliant talent herself. After suffering a terrible trauma at eighteen, she moved to Florence. There, she continued to paint, rising to fame and attaining Medici patronage while gaining admission into the Accademia delle Arti Del Disegno as its first female painter. Though she bore six children (fathered by a Florentine husband and a lover), only two survived beyond the age of five. Both became painters under her tutelage.
Author of numerous plays celebrating historical women, Hamill has invested this new drama with such a fierce passion that she’s seized the opportunity to play the role of the protagonist Artemisia herself. It’s a fiery, tour de force performance lasting two and a half hours, during which Artemisia provides an exhaustive, non-stop narrative of her traumatic life, interspersed with dramatic scenes. “A glorious time . . . a dangerous time,” she says, describing her spirited, rebellious teenage years. She greatly admired her artist-father, Orazio (Wynn Hermon), and was desperate to join his studio on an equal footing with his fellow artists (all male). There, Artemisia displayed her great talent, shocking them all with an enormous, elegant, nude self-portrait (the playwright/actress strips onstage, as the stunning painting is projected on the upstage wall).
But her attempts at independence are quickly crushed. Agostino Tassi, an ambitious artist and frequenter of the studio (played by Matthew Saldivar), attacks and rapes Artemisia. Enraged, Orazio brings the matter to trial. There, Artemisia is accused of encouraging Tassi, and endures terrible humiliation. She is saved only by the eyewitness testimony of her young assistant, and Agostino is sent to jail (though not for long).
Clearly, Hamill has an urgent feminist agenda in the telling of this story. In Artemisia’s time, women were the legal property of their fathers and husbands and had no freedom. Although it’s hard to understand why Artemisia would have allowed Tassi (whom she found repugnant) to continue a physical relationship after he attacked her, she explains to the judge that Tassi promised to marry her, thereby saving her father’s reputation as parent of a violated daughter and her own reputation as well. (As it turns out, Tassi already had a wife.)
Before she leaves Rome, Artemisia confronts her father, who had initially doubted her credibility, saying that “the trial was as bad as the rape.” Indeed, after the trial, Orazio deals his daughter several more blows of betrayal, sending her off to Florence into an arranged marriage, and resuming a collaborative artistic relationship with his daughter’s rapist once Tassi was released from prison.
Hamill’s feminist commitment is delivered full force in the penultimate scene. Maria, her father’s studio model (also a prostitute, played by the versatile Joey Parsons who also appears in other roles) follows her to Florence, where she finds Artemisia traumatized by all that has transpired, unable to paint. In a passionate speech, Maria inspires Artemisia to pick up her brush again. “You don’t stop fighting!” Maria shouts. “You don’t get to give up!”
“I am reborn,” Artemisia cries at the play’s end. “I can work again. I paint, and I paint, and I paint. The women, always center – I don’t paint [only] ladies and saints. I paint whores and nurses and servants! I paint them strong. I paint them angry! My women never weep!”
Jade King Carroll directs an able and versatile ensemble playing multiple parts, including the above-mentioned actors, plus Carlo Alban and Jason O’Connell in supportive roles. As for the indefatigable playwright/actress, Kate Hamill delivers an overpowering, Olympian performance.
What is thrilling in those final moments are the dozens of Artemisia’s magnificent paintings that are flashed onto the giant upstage wall of Brittany Vasta’s set (the splendid projection design is by Kylee Loera). Indeed, there were projections of paintings throughout the production, including Artemisia’s earlier ones. They are breathtaking, especially the one entitled “Judith and Holofernes,” that appears multiple times throughout the evening and again at the conclusion. It depicts the moment from the ancient Book of Judith, wherein a Jewish widow cuts off the head of an Assyrian general who is attacking her city of Bethulia, near Jerusalem. It’s an overpowering image of a woman triumphing over a brutal male tyrant, and an iconic one in today’s feminist movement.
While overtly didactic, the final speeches by these two women—one an artist, and one a prostitute, reaching across the barriers of education, wealth, and status—represent the “one voice” that we’re hearing this season from women in plays like Suffs, The Hills of California, and The Blood Quilt.
“I hope you hear me—do you hear me—must we tell it again fighting across the ages . . . ” It’s Artemisia’s voice, calling upon us to tell our collective stories as women, assuring us “we are never alone.”
The Light and the Dark. Through December 15 at 59E59 Theaters (59 East 59th Street, between Park and Madison Avenues). www.59e59.org
Photos: James Leynse
