Framing Artemisia is impossible. Portraying her many faces too difficult. She leaves us mesmerized, amazed as in front of a kaleidoscope. Independent from her father's art as an artist, emancipated by the morbid aspects of her life, nonetheless she still invites us not to forget that girl furiously shouting out her wild anger.



Sì dolce è ’l tormento (C. Milanuzzi: Quarto scherzo delle ariose vaghezze, Venezia, Alessandro Vincenti, 1624)


So sweet is the torment
in my breast
that happily do I live
for cruel beauty.
In the heaven of beauty
let cruelty grow
and mercy be lacking:
for my faith will always
be as a rock,
in the face of pride.

Let deceitful hope
turn away from me,
let neither joy nor peace
descend on me.
And let the wicked girl
whom I adore
deny me the solace
of sweet mercy:
amid infinite pain,
amid hope betrayed,
my faith will survive.

The hard heart
that stole mine away
has never felt love’s flame.
The cruel beauty
that charmed my soul
withholds mercy,
so let it suffer,
repentant and languishing, and
let it sigh one day for me.