Foreword

The selected museum, Iris & B. Gerald Cantor Center for Visual Arts, is organized primarily by world region, and western artwork is most heavily represented and further organized by time period--not subject. This distinction of not having been segregated by subject seems to offer an atmosphere of open interpretation which would otherwise be stifled if the curator had thrust specific themes upon the viewer. Portraits, sculptures, vanitas paintings, etchings, lithographs, religious iconographic paintings, and even elaborate antique furniture share a room on the second floor east wing of the modern, airy building. The mileu seems to step back and allow the viewer an open range of interpretation, and I was drawn to a particular painting because although it seemed to have a long story to tell, the description beside it strangely pinned the theme down to witchcraft. This is certainly a sufficient literal explanation of the painting, but there were other hints scattered throughout it. Besides, who could resist the topic of witchcraft?

The Virgin Mary Disguised as "The Sorceress"

Bartolomeo Guidobono's "The Sorceress," an oil painting on canvas produced circa 1690, is generally a very dark painting. The center and focus of the painting is a very beautiful woman in loose flowing clothing, apparently in the process of following supernatural guidelines written in an old open book atop a pile of other books atop a human skull on the floor. Around this woman are numerous seemingly content animals, two frightened male humans halfway converted to animals, and an unconscious or dead elderly man lying on the floor. This initial view of the painting echoes the text offered by the museum's curator, but other details continue to emerge--each of them hinting toward this being more than the suggested sorceress Circe of Homer's classic "The Iliad." Although almost dismissable as paranoia, one can't help but sense a nagging intuition that the artwork is offering a second explanation. Every detail seems to beckon the viewer into a deeper concentration, but the painting refuses to do more than encourage the curious onlooker to solve the mystery alone. By manipulating and disguising the mood of the painting, inserting numerous irrefutable clues, and having previously focused almost exclusively on painting religious iconograhic frescas (museopalazzorosso.it), Bartolomeo Guidobono speaks between the lines to portray the Virgin Mary in a scene of witchcraft.

Were Guidobono still alive, a statement such as this would surely have meant his untimely death at the hands of religious fanatics. At the time of painting, witch trials had been well under way for approximately 240 years, but were not yet to end for another 60 (wikipedia, Witch_trial). Although we unfortunately do not know the exact year of it's completion, the estimated date of 1690 places it only two years before North America's infamous Salem Witch Trials (wikipedia, Salem_witch_trials). Assuming that there was a sufficient amount of communication between the colonies and Italy, it stands to reason that during the years surrounding 1690, witchcraft was an especially heated topic of discussion. Since the Catholic church of Italy considered witchcraft to be synonmous with Satanism, Demonolatry, and general blasphemy (wikipedia, Witch_trial), linking Madonna to these sins would have meant financial and professional ruin, destruction of the painting, and quite possibly execution. For this reason, all the clues are hidden well beneath the sinister feeling of the painting and it's references to The Iliad.

Upon the first closer inspection, one notes that despite the gloomy nature of the painting observed from a greater distance, the sorceress actually beams with an expression and body language of complete relaxation and happiness. Even modern viewers are first made to think, "this is the coldhearted calm of a shameless witch," but one cannot help but cast a lingering glance on her idealized beauty and innocence. Already the brow is furrowed, and questions begin to arise and draw the viewer closer to the painting in search of other messages. Viewing this painting is akin to holding a one-sided conversation with a mysterious and devious veiled character playing hard-to-get. "Should I pay attention to the animals?" -- "Mayyyyyyybe." These animals are, in fact, the next object of attention on the painting. They surround the sorceress on all sides and do a fairly complete job at representing the greater animal kingdom: Red fox, domestic dog with collar (but no chain), African gazelle, toad, snake, bird, and finally a second far less visible snake wrapped around a vase to the side of the painting. All animals, with the exception of this second snake, exhibit unconditional trust for the sorceress. The bird is seen landing on her shoulder, the fox stands near her, the dog gazes at her face with adoration, the gazelle sits calmly in the foreground, and the snake and toad are positioned fearlessly near her foot. This trust continues to play on the Circe theme, as all her animals were said to have "fawned on all newcomers" (wikipedia, Circe). This fawning, however, is not at all unlike the attitude of the adoring angels traditionally seen clustered around holy figures in countless religiously iconographic artforms. The viewers' only sense of unease stems from the two living mens' expressed fear, and socially cultured fears of the supernatural.

The two frightened men undergoing transformation into animal forms reinforce both the Circe theme and also the subliminal message that there is nothing to fear. Both are withdrawn, vulnerable, and terrified, but as one begins to wonder what their currently ambiguous body forms might soon become, one is reminded that their soon-to-be animal brothers are extremely content. Just as the viewer is put off by the fear of the unknown, so too are these men resisting what they will soon discover to be a very pleasant life. The comparison works both ways as well. If subscribed to the 'Virgin Mary as a sorceress' theory, the "victims'" misunderstanding seems to voice a statement from Guidobono that the supernatural aberration of medicine being conducted by the woman is not something to be feared. Rather, he seems to say, it's not as bad as we think... Give it a chance! Right here the expected outrage at such a statement reminds us that the artist's hidden theme had to be burried deeply enough to escape detection by the very close-minded religious fanatics he was attempting to free from fear and misunderstanding. Despite this caution fueled by self-preservation, Guidobono plays with fire by including numerous other indications that his subject can be interpreted in a second way.

The sorceress' divine appearance is highlighted by both the adoration of her "animal children" and the overall use of light and shadow in the painting. By being placed at the center of the painting and attracting the direct gaze of the very adorable dog on her right side, the sorceress radiates an aura of tender maternal care for all those in the room with her. Additionally, although a small fire on a pedestal is offered as a light source for the room, the height of the flames fall short of explaining the soft white glow which seems to emanate from the sorceress herself. The expression on her illuminating face is one reflected in nearly every painting of the Virgin Mary produced during the hundreds of years prior to and following 1690. In addition to the bright skin on her face, the viewer is also able to see a similar complexion on her exposed leg.

The sorceress' leg, exposed to the viewer as she draws up her long flowing clothing introduces the relevant theme of logical earthly utility. While bending to the side, the sorceress lifts the loose material from the ground to facilitate her freedom of movement. This motion connects the subject, who is becoming linked directly to the Virgin Mary in the mind of the astute viewer, to the corporeal form of a mortal. Further strengthening this link through the use of symbolic representation, the sorceress carries on her head a red hair ribbon so eloquently twirled and folded that it invariably presents a fluidic appearance reminiscent of blood. Finally, the book of spells highlighted by her gaze, as well as the flasks on a table and the human skull beneath the book, all invoke a reminder of legitimate medicine. Interestingly, the serpent wrapped around one of the flasks may be the most immediate tie to medicine by resembling the symbolic "logo" of healthcare consisting of a snake wrapped around Moses' staff. The serpent became part of this symbol long before Guidobono's life because of an ancient misconception that snakes are immune to all disease (pacs.unica.it). All these details serve to demystify the subject (whether she be interpreted as the Virgin Mary or Circe the sorceress) and build a trust between her and the viewer.

The last and most beautiful link between the sorceress and the Virgin Mary was most likely intended by Guidobono as the primary invitation to consider all of these references: The sorceress' clothing. Apparent from miles away, the red dress and deep blue cloak perfectly match the traditional colors of the Virgin Mary. A brief glance around the room in which this painting is presented will show you three other Virgin Marys in their traditional religious poses. This epiphany explains the tickling sense of recognition many viewers are sure to experience when viewing The Sorceress. After juxtaposing several Madonnas, it is impossible to deny the similarities both in color and tailoring. The beautiful, caring, divine sorceress' clothing is so directly modeled after all predating representations that lingering thoughts of coincidence fade away, leaving the viewer in full understanding of Bartolomeo Guidobono's hidden message.

In presenting the Virgin Mary as a compassionate sorceress, Guidobono does not make a blasphemous statement, but rather a heartwarming one inviting the religious to open their minds to the more mysterious aspects of medicine and importance of mankind's attention to the physical world. In many ways, his invitation is a timeless one which exists even today. He leaves the viewer's mind open to the prospect that there is indeed a mysterious and unknown aspect to life, and at the same time reminds us that mythological evils are sometimes a blessing in disguise.