Biblical Women and the Arts ed. by Diane Apostolos-Cappadona (review)

The ten contributors to this beautifully illustrated volume examine the reception of biblical women ranging from Eve to the woman clothed with the sun. In this stellar example of visual exegesis, the points of view vary from that of the artist to that of the viewer, as well as from Jewish, Christian, and Muslim perspectives. With a few exceptions, the art displayed is from the last thousand years, not the first millennium, and was produced by male artists. In other words, the focus is primarily on the reception of ancient biblical narratives about women in the context of the male gaze, both medieval and modern, as well as contemporary.

Diane Apostolos-Cappadona, the guest editor, starts off the ten chapters with “Naked or Nurtured: The Breast of Eve, the Breast of Mary.” Here she considers not only the breast in art, but also the history of how the women’s breasts on public display have been received, whether as source of nutrient or shame. Apostolos-Cappadona traces the medieval symbolism of the bare breast, especially as represented by Jesus’s mother holding out her own breast or nursing her son with it. Mary’s naked breast was a multivalent motif, ranging in meaning from spiritual milk for the believer to Mary’s ability to intercede with her son on behalf of the people. Apostolos-Cappadona ends by addressing reasons why depictions of Mary’s bare breast fell out of favor during modernity.

The second chapter, “Images of the First Woman: Eve in Islamic Fāl-Nāma Paintings,” by Zohar Hadromi-Allouche, is one of the most provocative. H.-A. contrasts the portrayals of Eve in Jewish Scripture and the Qur’an and its associated literature. She first dispels the notion that the Qur’an’s depiction of Eve was an egalitarian paradise narrative, because, for example, unlike in Genesis, Eve is never named in the Qur’an. Then she carefully nuances how Eve was elevated in the Qur’anic narratives. Adam, not Eve, was the primary source of temptation—yet Eve’s lack of blame means that she almost disappears from the narrative. But artists brought Eve to life. Hadromi-Allouche examines three hagiographical watercolors of Adam and Eve painted between 1550 and 1615 in two books used by nobility for the purpose of augury, that is, as tools for the practice of divination. In these, Eve, like Adam, is painted with the flaming halo of a prophet or the green halo of Muhammed; angels bow to her, not just Adam as in the Qur’anic accounts; and Adam is painted with a navel while Eve has none, suggesting that she gave birth to him as the Mother of All. The extraordinary elevation of Eve in these paintings, especially in contrast to the Qur’anic narrative, in my view raises the one question that Hadromi-Allouche does not ask that I wish she had: Were these books manufactured for the female gaze? Did women use them for divination?

In chap. 3, “Beauty and Its Beholders: Envisioning Sarah and Esther,” Ori Z. Soltes illustrates first Sarah and then Esther in art that ranges in date from the thirteenth century to 2005, with about half the portraits from the 1990s and early 2000s, including some by women artists. What is most striking is the contrast between the more romantic images of the distant past and the powerful recent images. This is not merely that contemporary artists comparatively place the female figures, especially that of Sarah, front and center, but also that in so doing they bring alive these women’s personalities and predicaments. As Soltes notes, the change in how these artists portray Sarah and Esther dramatically changes the reception of their biblical narrative; finally, at least in art, they are the protagonists of their own stories.

Christine E. Joynes, in chap. 4, “Re-Visioning Women in Mark’s Gospel through Art,” argues that the variety of artistic interpretations of women in...