ArtemisiaDVD - 1997 | French
OFRB rating: Restricted.
From the critics
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She is without a doubt... the daughter of a painter.
I'll never get anywhere if I can't paint naked men.
-Artemisia. It's the Papal Father, not your father... who forbids women to paint male anatomy.
I'm forbidden half of art!
- You want to go to jail? Or send your father there?
Look how the back muscle... crosses your side... and joins your thigh muscles. It's less visible in girls.
They're jealous of a girl... who has the talent of a man.
Why draw in a field, like a peasant?
-It's the latest fashion in Florence, or so she says.
He reproduced... every crease... every wrinkle.
-A Biblical character... with wrinkles and defects doesn't please everyone. Caravaggio has had problems because of that. He shows us a beheading... as if it were like slicing bread.
Quiet. We say too much in front of paintings.
I think she's a prodigy. She betters all the others in my studio.
- The Academy does not accept girls.
I said she paints like a man.
He's too long. It looks ridiculous.
-It's deliberate. High up on the wall of the church... it will look normal. Look. Look from here. It seems less long. It must be like when you look between your legs. It's smaller than when you see it in a mirror.
A girl who paints? What courage, to try painting yourself. But it's a lost cause! Who is talented enough to render such beauty?
You've always painted your subjects from up close. But the world is vast. Relations between things are more complex. The frame gives order to our vision of the landscape. Cutting up the canvas like this... gives us the exact relations. Look how many faraway things... are contained in the squares above... and how few things are in those below.
All I see is land and water.
-You're not looking. Close your eyes.
I'm to learn painting with my eyes shut? You're some teacher!
- Close your eyes. Trust me. The earth invades the composition. It occupies... almost all of the center. It pushes the sky up to the upper two-thirds. On the horizon... the earth circumscribes the water. It holds it back. The water itself is... deep green in the distance, bluer near us. And the sun. The sun dances on the water, forming a mirrored path... which comes to meet us wherever we are. Open your eyes now.
Yes, the water is changing color. And the sun is a mirrored path coming towards us. It's true!
(To the maid) You're tanned.
We were outside, painting the horizon.
(To Artemisia) And you stayed in the shade?
I was under the parasol. It protects the canvases.
Is there a window in your cell? Tell me what you see from it.
-Two hills. One runs into the other. On one side... near the hill that's farther away... I can see a tree. Our eyes follow its branches up to the sky. Early in the afternoon... its dark green shadow... almost reaches a rock formation... strikingly white... a white too pure ever to be painted. It would seem to spurt from the canvas. In the evening... when the light begins to fade... my hills become greenish gray... and lose their depth... like paper cutouts.
Artemisia and Agostino. Who is the victim of whom?
Don't worry about me, Father. You gave me something no one can take away. You taught me to paint.
-No, I gave you the suffering you put into your paintings, not the talent.
You made things easier for me. You blocked the paths that might have diverted me from painting... had I remained a respectable woman.
-You've done a magnificent painting, a powerful one.
We say too much in front of paintings.
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