The first thing I noticed about Judith of Bethulia (or Betylua) was that her deuterocanonical Book came as a surprise to me when I joined the Roman Catholic Church as an adult. The second thing I noticed--over time--was that a lot of painters and sculptors had had their imaginations fired by Judith's fantastic story. We're talking serious Art Names here, too: Michelangelo, Donatello, Titian, Caravaggio, Botticelli, Cranach the Elder, Goya and Klimt to cite just a few. Mind you, Judith as an artistic theme will never see numbers anywhere close to those of Virgin and Child (with or without Saints), but, still. Impressive roster of artists.

Well, the third thing I now know about Judith came to me courtesy of Beth Gersh-Nesic, who is also a huge fan of putting art in context. "Hanukkah connection," said Beth. I craved more info. "Oh, yes," she said. "Cheese and dairy products on the fifth day ... kudos to Judith." This was rather stunning news to me, given the staggering amount of Roman Catholic artists who'd depicted the lovely Jewish widow with nary a reference to a Hanukkah menorah in sight. Here, I thought, was an educational tale begging to be told, so Beth has obliged us all with The Story of Judith. Whether or not this fable has any basis in historical fact--and evidence supporting this is sketchy, at best--it is a triumphant narrative of Good vs. Evil, and has undeniably inspired some eye-popping art over the centuries. Enjoy.

Image Credit:

Cristofano Allori (Italian, 1577-1621)
Judith with the Head of Holofernes, 1613
Oil on canvas
120.4 x 100.3 cm (47 3/8 x 39 1/2 in.)
Acquired by Charles I
RCIN 404989
The Royal Collection © 2008, Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II

Mark Podwal (American, b. 1945)
Pomegranates with Torah Shields, 2008
Acrylic, gouache and colored pencil on paper
7 3/4 x 12 1/8 in. (19.7 x 30.8 cm)
© Mark Podwal, 2008, courtesy of Forum Gallery, New York

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Jonathan Jones over at the Guardian is now convinced that Caravaggio's Nativity with Saints Francis and Lawrence will never again be seen. Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio executed the painting in 1609 shortly before his untimely death. It was the last work he finished during his nine months in Sicily, and it had hung in the Oratory of San Lorenzo, Palermo for 360 years until being cut from its frame and stolen in October of 1969.

Last year Jones pieced together evidence from the 1996 court testimony of a pentito (Mafia insider-turned-informant) that seemed to conclude Nativity had been irreparably damaged while being stolen. And then, last week, separate (but not contradictory) testimony from another pentito claimed that the painting was eaten by rats and pigs in the farm outbuilding in which it had been hidden. Those few scraps that remained were burned sometime in the 1980s. I'm inclined to agree with Jones, mourn and thank the technology gods that we have reproductions, at least. Also? One wonders, yet again, why low-level flunkies with ham hands and knives always seem to be the stooges sent to manglesteal priceless canvases.

On a lighter (?) note, there is also word of a potential Caravaggio discovery. Reuters reports that a team of Italian anthropologists are on the hunt for a piece of the artist's skeletal remains in a mass crypt in Porto Ercole, Tuscany. Why? I'm not exactly sure, but suppose we're all somewhat morbidly curious to know if Caravaggio died of malaria, an STD, a sword wound or poison. (Although, personally, I'm not curious enough to want to sift through that which amounts to a big box full of bones looking for under-40 male specimens.)

Image Caption:

Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio (Italian, 1571-1610)
Nativity with Saints Francis and Lawrence, 1609
Oil on canvas
268 x 197 cm (106 x 78 in.)
San Lorenzo, Palermo, Italy
Stolen in 1969

Marvelously, especially seeing as all of the eyewitnesses have been dead for centuries and only 20% of the original mural survives, an outfit known as Leonardo3 has "digitally reconstructed" Leonardo's Last Supper by stitching together high-resolution imagery and filling in color pixels. I'm guessing this worked in much the same way as using the "eyedropper" tool in Photoshop? The results. (Note the startlingly vivid, cookie-cutter perfect coloring, the re-emergence of the patterned wall hangings, the pristine tablecloth and Jesus' getting His feet back.)

Discovery News has all of the details here, along with the supremely annoying lazy-journalism habit of referring to Leonardo as "Da Vinci."