There are two ways to see this hand: protection and possession. But it’s something else

It’s that hand coupled with slightly watery, looking up eyes. Is this child scared? An adult male hand rests over his skull, fingers on forehead. There are two ways to see this: protection and possession. Anyone who assumes protection will find it a nice gesture. Man takes care of vulnerable orphans. Those who assume ownership will be less enthusiastic about it. The child cannot go anywhere, if it wanted to.

It’s meant to be something else: a blessing. Christ who said: Let the children come to me and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to those who are like them. A verse from Matthew 19, which I have always understood as an encouragement to nurture childlike openness. The gesture is thus a ritual of spiritual leaders. For many it will have a different meaning, knowing what spiritual leaders sometimes do with their hands at children. I find it difficult to see it unambiguously as beautiful, but then again, I don’t have a childishly innocent look.

This work was a surprise in the exhibition Artemisia, woman and power in Enschede, because it fits less well with the infectious story of Artemisia, the proto-feminist who mainly painted strong women. She did, and a lot. But earlier expert Jesse Locker already warned that we miss things because of this† If you reduce an artist to one story, because she herself is a woman and has survived rape, you limit the view of her quality. Artemisia also surpassed her contemporaries with religious paintings that fit less into that picture. This painting influenced painters as far as Spain. Artemisia was not only the first woman admitted to art school in Florence, she was also the first woman to be an art advisor to a powerful leader: Fernando de Ribera, Duke of Alcala and Viceroy of Naples. Religious paintings were part of her oeuvre. All the better that Enschede does show the work.

But there’s another reason this work almost eluded us: disinterest in the world’s most famous museum. The Metropolitan Museum owned it and… sold it in 1979. Who knows how few museums sell – nothing, usually – and that the Metropolitan Museum bought just 84,000 objects with the director who was there at the time, may have to hold on for a while. Be sure to listen the podcast episode Dragon Psychology 101 by Malcolm Gladwell just to hear how collectors addicted the Metropolitan Museum is, it makes you fall out of your chair. Who sells an Artemisia? Someone who doesn’t look closely is the only answer. And okay, it was poorly restored. In 2012, the work was rediscovered in Rome, then thoroughly restored and a signature of Artemisia Gentileschi was found on the back. The suspicion of Artemisia expert Riccardo Lattuada, who estimated that it could be hers based on a black and white photo in 2001, was confirmed. And now it is in the Netherlands, for a moment. A small thriller with a happy ending, which warns us never to narrow our gaze.