Venus and Cupid (Artemisia Gentileschi)

In this work, Gentileschi has created a sumptuous image of Venus, the goddess of love, asleep beneath a velvet curtain. Her bedspread is painted in ultramarine blue, an expensive pigment made from powdered lapis lazuli. Behind her, Cupid wields a peacock-feather fan to keep pests from bothering or waking her. To the left is a view of a mountainous landscape with a small circular temple, reminiscent of the one dedicated to Venus near Hadrian’s Villa at Tivoli, on the outskirts of Rome.

Artemisia Gentileschi, who trained in Rome with her father, Orazio, was the leading female artist of the 17th century. She worked mainly in Rome, Florence and Naples. In 1616, she became the first woman to join the renowned Academy of Painting in Florence.

Gentileschi’s work, marked by strong contrasts of light and shadow as well as unusual, daring compositions, was influenced both by her father’s painting style and by that of her famous associate, Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio. Her subjects often include powerful depictions of women—Judith, Susanna, Cleopatra and Danaë, for example—portrayed dramatically as heroines or victims.

Although this Venus may seem like just another pale, naked goddess lying on a plush bed in a strangely twisted pose, Artemisia Gentileschi was working outside convention by painting a female nude as a woman. Hard as it may be to believe, in 1600s Italy, painting female anatomy was still considered men’s work. No wonder Italian art ended up with breasts sculpted as bewildering as those in Michelangelo’s 1531 Night. But never mind the injustice of Renaissance nudes. What is truly perplexing about this painting is the little Cupid, so boldly depicted.

There has been all manner of art throughout history. Titian’s Venus and Cupid with an Organist has an alarmingly high level of eroticism, prompting admirers to wonder why the infant Cupid is gazing into his mother’s eyes.

Lotto’s Venus and Cupid depicts a cheerful Cupid urinating on an apparently unperturbed Venus. And we don’t even want to talk about Bronzino’s Venus, Cupid, Folly and Time (An Allegory of the Triumph of Venus). The “terrifying incestuous mythology” doesn’t even begin to describe the Oedipal antics in that work.

Compared with those paintings, Artemisia Gentileschi’s Venus and Cupid is refreshingly free of chillingly incestuous vibes. Still, one can’t help wondering what possessed Cupid to gently wave a fan over his sleeping mother. Is the goddess of love such a demanding queen that she makes her cherub fan her during afternoon naps?

Don’t be fooled by Cupid’s innocent appearance. The troublesome little god also contributes his share of anguish to the scene. Legend has it that Cupid used his arrows to make Apollo fall for the naiad Daphne. As sadistic as he was, Cupid made Daphne feel disgust for the god who was in love with music. When Apollo pursued her, Daphne’s only recourse was to turn into a laurel tree, which makes for a rather sad happy ending. Cupid also kept a few arrows in reserve just for Zeus, in case the thunderbolt-wielding tyrant fell in love. On Mount Olympus, the policy was “if someone doesn’t like you, change their mind with your divine powers.” Consent is sadly scarce in mythology.

Some experts argue that Venus and Cupid is too foreign to Gentileschi. Could this painting be the work of an anonymous imitator, or even Artemisia’s own father?

Despite the speculation, the resemblance between Venus and Gentileschi herself cannot be denied. Painting her own face on the goddess of beauty and love? That is an artistic act that wins admirers instantly.