From the 17th century Italian, Spanish, French Art exhibit at the Walters Art Museum
By LaShunda Colvin
Judith Decapitating Holofernes by Trophime Bigot catches my attention immediately upon walking into the room. At the entrance of the exhibit, this artwork demands the weight of ones gaze. It spans a burgundy painted wall with gray accents in the center of the room. There is a wide wooden table beneath the painting with a marble sculpture sitting atop; nice pieces on their own but not enough to redirect my attention.
The painting is dark and rich, surrounded by a bronze frame with exaggerated details, and like the painting eschews the Baroque period style of art. The painting is lush and violent and surprising at first glance. From afar, the candlelight contrasts beautifully with the darkness. The burning torch depicted in the painting reminds me of a log-burning fire, evoking warmth. Still at a distance, I notice the bold, deep reds pop stand out on the canvas, in the drapery behind Judith’s head, the accent colors in her bodice and hair turban, the skirt of her dress, and the rivulets of blood spurting from the sword and beneath Holofernes’ neck. The areas of pitch-blackness seem bottomless, and I wonder what stories are there to tell about who’s hidden in the corners and shadows beyond the artists’ vision. Bigot’s artistic rendering of realism is beautifully painted, like the figures can step out of the canvas and reenact the scene as told in the Bible.
Standing as close to the painting as I can, the details are breath-taking: the shadow of Judith’s neck in the firelight, the pleating on her sleeves and the intricate beading in her turban, her milk braid, the curvature of her breasts; the gush of blood fading into black near the bottom of the painting. I remember focusing intently on the grip of Holofernes’ hand on Judith’s left shoulder as she severed his head from his body. After a few minutes of study, I realize Holofernes is in bed, perhaps in a tent or bedchamber. Vivid blood spills over a stark white pillow and Holofernes is naked from the waist up, indicating further vulnerability at being without armor and caught unaware in the attack. His bed covers appear dark brown covering him from the waist down. I’ve yet to mention the third party in this painting, and this is because my attention constantly wavered from Judith to Holofernes.
From online research I learn that the woman is Judith’s maid, Abra, who was instrumental in Judith overpowering Holofernes. In Bigot’s painting, Abra is passive, though she does restrain Holofernes’ right arm, and she is the apex of light. The painting also depicts Holofernes as having a strong muscular body befitting a military general. For a long time I could not tear my eyes away from the expression on Judith’s face: serene determination, juxtaposed with Abra’s look of blank fortitude, and Holofernes’ mute horror. Lastly, I was able to stand fairly close to the painting without touching, and was able to detect some broad paint strokes by the artist, and even how some of the colors were combined on the canvas; for example, lighter colors layered to create skin tone.
Overall, I’m pleased to notice how the paint glimmers in the artificial light of the exhibit. Some websites online accurately describe Holofernes as a conscious and horrified witness to his brutal demise. Visitors who noticed my preoccupation with the painting also stopped to stare, and in some cases glanced at me scribbling in my notebook, returned to look at the painting again. I feel a deep sense of conflict after spending a significant amount of time with this painting. It makes me want to conjure a level of rage I am completely unfamiliar with. Then I glance at Judith’s face: calm, precise, seemingly unaffected, and I wonder if her lack of emotion is worse. Judith sees her actions as a means to an end, a duty to save her people, but decapitating a man’s head from his body takes a certain brutality not easily channeled unless it has always been there under the surface.
About the style of the painting: from the Baroque period, defined as exaggerated motion, clear, easily interpreted detail to produce drama, tension, exuberance and grandeur in art; in the style of realism and chiaroscuro, which is the effect of contrasted light and shadow created by light falling unevenly or from a particular direction.