Signing one’s artwork is a common practice today, but it wasn’t always the case. Historically, adding a signature to a finished piece was considered an act of pride, one of the seven deadly sins according to Catholic ethics.
What was an artist to do when they wanted to claim credit for their work, and avoid the wrath of the church at the same time? This was a sticky situation given the church was often the patron. Upsetting your patron is never a good idea, I always say.
Clara Peeters, Still Life with Cheeses, Almonds and Pretzels (1616).
As a woman artist in what is now modern day Belgium, Peeters was limited in her choice of subject matter because women were not allowed to freely roam the countryside in search of nature-inspired imagery.
Still Life with Cheeses, Almonds and Pretzels (detail). Peeters' signature on the knife in the foreground of the painting.
Peeters’ skill at calligraphy is evident in her careful rendering of her signature on rhetoric side of the knife. The knife appears to be silver agaisnt the duller tones of the chestnut colored almond.
Still Life with Cheeses, Almonds and Pretzels (detail)
So, like many women artists of her time, she painted stilllifes in her front room, often in secret so she would not be found out by the ethics police. In this deatil, we can see Peeter’s self-portrait seen in the lid of the ceramic jug.
Dutch artist Judith Leyster (1609-1660) created a monogram of her initials, intertwining the J and L with a five-pointed shooting star (the meaning of her name) so her signature was both present and obscure, an appropriate practice for a member of the Dutch middle class. An example of this signature can be seen in The Carousing Couple (1630), located beneath one of the violin player’s foot, just below a shooting star.
Even more significant, was the sale of The Carousing Couple to art dealer Thomas Lawrie in 1892. Assured he was getting an original Hals; Lawrie demanded a refund when he discovered Leyster’s signature under the fake Hals signature. You’d think the forger would take the time to erase Leyster’s signature, no?
Despite Leyster’s unique signature, her work was often confused with Dutch artist Frans Hals, who may have been her teacher. For instance, Boy Playing a flute (1630), depicting a seated young musician whose sunlit face is turned upward toward an unseen window, was owned by the Swedish royal family for almost 150 years. Even though Leyster’s signature is visible on the boy’s jacket, the painting, it was attributed to Hals.
I thought of these women artists during the photo session when my painting, Summer’s End was being photographed. I noticed the painting was visible in the baroque style mirror on the wall opposite of the painting. Immediately I wanted my photograph taken in the mirror with the painting behind me. The photographer agreed and I got one of my now favorite images of me and in the spirit of so many women artist who hid their signatures in their paintings out of deference or cultural necessity. I love this photograph, and I love the way it connect me to the galaxy of women artists who came before me.
