A Celebration of Artistic Brilliance: Elisabetta Sirani
The final unit of my online art appreciation course was dedicated to Elisabetta Sirani (Bologna, 1638–1665). Like Lavinia Fontana before her, this remarkable artist was able to earn a living from her work. This alone is a testament to the exceptional circumstances that made Bologna a uniquely supportive environment for women artists in early modern Europe.
Count Carlo Cesare Malvasia devoted the concluding chapter of his Felsina Pittrice—a collection of artists’ biographies—to Sirani.
Holding Sirani in the highest esteem, he dedicated no fewer than twenty-eight pages to her life and work. He also published a list of her artworks that had been compiled by the artist herself.
Yet, despite his admiration, Malvasia couldn’t resist indulging in rumors surrounding Sirani’s personal life and untimely death. She died at the age of just twenty-seven, and Malvasia speculated that her demise was due either to lovesickness or professional jealousy. While her death did raise suspicions at the time, she most likely succumbed to a perforated ulcer.
Elisabetta began her career as a professional painter at just seventeen. The first two entries in her Nota delle pitture fatte da me Elisabetta Sirani (Notes of the paintings made by me, Elisabetta Sirani) are dated 1655. When her father, Giovanni Andrea Sirani—a fellow artist and follower of Guido Reni—became incapacitated by gout and unable to support the family, Elisabetta took over the running of the family workshop.
Elisabetta Sirani, Self-Portrait as the Allegory of Painting, 1658. The Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, Moscow
By the age of twenty, she painted Self-Portrait as the Allegory of Painting, in which she confidently presents herself as the embodiment of her art. She gazes directly at the viewer, who appears to have interrupted her in the act of painting—though the canvas remains hidden. Dressed in luxurious brocade and crowned with a poet’s laurel, she defies the modest and subdued depictions of artists like Sofonisba Anguissola in her early self-portraits.
Much like Lavinia Fontana’s Self-Portrait in the Studiolo (1579), Sirani surrounds herself with the symbols of intellectual refinement—books, compass, inkwell, quill, and statuette. However, unlike Fontana’s allusion to a broad spectrum of intellectual pursuits, Sirani emphasizes painting itself.
Trained by her father, as were Sofonisba Anguissola, Lavinia Fontana, Fede Galizia, and Artemisia Gentileschi, Sirani also took on the role of mentor, instructing several young women—including her sisters—who later became professional painters. The academy she founded around 1652, the Accademia del Disegno, is believed to be Europe’s first school (outside a convent) dedicated solely to training women artists. At least ten women are known to have studied there.
Elisabetta Sirani, Self-Portrait as Judith Showing the Head of Holofernes to the Israelites, 1658. The Burghley House Collection, Stamford Lincolnshire, England
Sirani, like Fontana and Gentileschi, painted herself in the guise of Judith. Her Judith with the Head of Holofernes presents the heroine as calm and poised, in stark contrast to Artemisia Gentileschi’s dramatic Florentine interpretation. Standing between two animated torch-bearing boys, Judith appears focused and composed, almost regal.
Dressed in an ornate gown and adorned with jewelry—including a striking Medusa medallion—Sirani’s Judith recalls Fede Galizia’s interpretation. The light, entering from the right, highlights her gold brooch, jeweled hairband, and pearl earrings.
This painting was commissioned by the banker Andrea Cattalani, a collector of images of ancient heroines. Alongside Judith, Sirani painted another dignified woman—Timoclea—whose story is told by Plutarch in The Life of Alexander the Great. The artist likely knew Plutarch’s Lives, a copy of which was kept in the family library.
Elisabetta Sirani, Timoclea, 1659. Museo Nazionale di Capodimonte, Naples
According to Plutarch, during the sack of Thebes, a Macedonian captain raped Timoclea and demanded her money. She claimed to have hidden it in a well. When the man leaned in to look, she pushed him in and hurled heavy stones down to ensure his death.
Sirani’s Timoclea captures this moment powerfully. While Timoclea remains composed, the captain is shown in an undignified pose. Only one other known depiction of this scene predates Sirani’s—a 1629–30 engraving by Matthäus Merian for Johann Ludwig Gottfried’s Theatrum Europaeum. It seems the book was quite popular at the time so it mustn’t have been difficult for Elisabetta to get hold of it.
Matthäus Merian the Elder, Timoclea and the Thracian captain disappearing upside down into the well, engraving, 1629-30
Most other depictions focus on Timoclea being presented to Alexander, often exploiting the opportunity for nudity or moral allegory.
Francesco Primaticcio’s Fontainebleau version, for example, inexplicably portrays Timoclea naked—clearly intended for the male gaze. Domenichino’s version is more dignified, emphasizing her composure as she leads a procession of children and soldiers.
Domenichino (1581-1641), Timoclea Before Alexander the Great, ca. 1610. Louvre Museum, Paris
Sirani’s version must remain the most powerful depiction of Timoclea. It really gives the sense of the heroine lifting the captain’s backside with one hand and pushing him down with the other. Against centuries-old stereotypes of female virtues, such as beauty, chastity, modesty, obedience, Timoclea shows bravery and intelligence – virtues usually associated with men.
So much for the ‘weaker sex’!
Elisabetta Sirani, Lady Painting a Portrait / Self-portrait Painting a Portrait of her Father, ca. 1665. The Hermitage, St. Petersburg
The final self-portrait we examine recalls two notable double portraits: Artemisia Gentileschi’s Self-Portrait Painting a Portrait of Her Father (once thought to depict her painting Orazio), and Bernardino Campi Painting Sofonisba Anguissola, long attributed to Anguissola herself. Like these, Sirani’s Self-Portrait Painting a Portrait of Her Father focuses on artistic creation and authorship. While male self-portraits of the time often emphasized social standing, these female examples convey stronger, more personal messages.
By the time of her death in 1665, Sirani had produced over 200 works—many of which she documented herself. About half of these have been securely identified, though works continue to surface, and scholarly debate over attribution persists. Over-attribution remains a risk, especially as interest in her work grows.
One telling case is a painting in the Musei Capitolini in Rome, labeled: “Attributed to Elisabetta Sirani, but the work of her father, Giovanni Andrea Sirani, a close follower of Guido Reni.” Normally, the confusion goes the other way.
Giovanni Andrea Sirani, Ulysses and Circe, ca. 1650 - 1655. Musei Capitolini, Rome
Like Fontana, Sirani produced many religious works—particularly for private devotion—catering to the expanding religious institutions of the Counter-Reformation. Her Virgin and Child is a quintessential post-Tridentine image: the Madonna wears a peasant’s turban, while the Christ child offers her a crown of white and pink roses. Her signature appears discreetly on the side of the cushion supporting the child.
Elisabetta Sirani, Virgin and Child, 1663. National Museum of Women in the Arts, Washington, D.C
Sirani’s Madonnas have often been compared to those of Guido Reni, though many critics find hers less idealized and more emotionally grounded. Her use of light adds warmth, particularly in this example, where illumination from the upper left highlights the tender bond between mother and child.
Elisabetta Sirani, Allegory of Justice, Charity, and Prudence, 1664. Municipality of Vignola, Modena
Her largest allegorical painting, Allegory of Justice, Charity, and Prudence (139 × 165 cm), was painted for Prince Leopoldo de’ Medici—a major patron of the Baroque era. Sirani proudly recorded Prince Cosimo de’ Medici’s visit to her studio while she worked on the piece. As a token of appreciation, Prince Leopoldo gifted her a cross set with 56 diamonds.
Self-portraits were a key promotional tool for women artists. So too were signatures. Unlike male artists, who often left their works unsigned, women like Sirani signed theirs consistently—to claim authorship and counter skepticism. Contemporary sources suggest her works were often mistakenly attributed to her father, which led her to allow visitors to observe her painting in person.
Sirani’s signatures were creative. While Fontana typically signed her name at the bottom of her works, Sirani often integrated her signature into the composition itself. In Allegory of Justice, Charity, and Prudence, each letter of her name—"ELISABA SIRANI"—is inscribed in the twelve buttons on Justice’s dress. This interplay between authorship and composition underscores her strategic self-positioning in the art world.
Her patrons were also more diverse than Fontana’s, spanning different social classes. Among them were Count Carlo Cesare Malvasia, Count Ettore Ghisilieri, and Marchese Ferdinando Cospi, who introduced her to Prince Leopoldo. The originality of her depictions of women from antiquity suggests that her cultured and supportive patrons may have encouraged such work.
Sirani is also considered one of early modern Italy’s most prolific female draughtswomen. Over one hundred, possibly up to 150, of her drawings survive—many preserved in seventeenth- and eighteenth-century Bolognese inventories, attesting to their value among collectors.
Contemporaries praised her mastery of drawing, particularly her use of wash—a technique she handled with remarkable sprezzatura. Her Study for the Allegory of Justice, Charity, and Prudence reveals delicate preliminary chalk lines overlaid with rich brown ink wash, creating depth and striking chiaroscuro effects.
Elisabetta Sirani, Study for the Allegory of Justice, Charity, and Prudence, 1664. Rhode Island School of Design, Providence, R.I.
We conclude with Sirani’s powerful depiction of Portia—another heroine from antiquity. Most painters, including Guido Reni, portrayed Portia's suicide by swallowing burning coals after Brutus’s death. Sirani chose a different moment: the one in which Portia wounds her thigh to prove her strength to Brutus.
Guido Reni, The Suicide of Portia, ca. 1625–26. Museum of Fine Arts of Rennes, France
Elisabetta Sirani, Portia Wounding Her Thigh, 1664. Collezioni d’Arte e di Storia della Fondazione Cassa di Risparmio, Bologna
In Portia Wounding Her Thigh, she appears both heroic and exquisitely feminine. Draped in rich red and gold silk, she holds not a knife, but a stiletto—an embroidery tool—in her right hand, and its case in her left. Behind her, women wind silk. Brutus is absent. This subtle symbolism points to the painting’s commissioner: Simone Tassi, a wealthy Bolognese silk merchant. At the time, Bologna was Italy’s leading silk producer.
One year after completing Portia, Elisabetta Sirani died at the age of twenty-seven. So esteemed was she that she was buried in the same tomb as Guido Reni, in the Church of San Domenico in Bologna. Her funeral was lavish, featuring a baldacchino-catafalque, and shortly after, a book of over one hundred poems was published in her honor.
Taking it further
Painting and Drawing "like a Great Master": the Talent of Elisabetta Sirani (Bologna, 1638-1655) | Online exhibition | Uffizi Gallery, Florence.
Elisabetta Sirani: Self-Portraits
by Jacqueline Thalmann in artherstory | 20 Apr, 2021
Adelina Modesti, Elisabetta Sirani - Illuminating Women Artists, Lund Humphries Publishers Ltd, 2023
