Three early 17th-century inventories describe a portrait collection of historically significant artists displayed at the Accademia di San Luca, which are made available on The History of the Accademia di San Luca, c. 1590–1635.[1] The 1633 inventory lists 69 sitters’ names, filling a page and a half with artists from the distant past, recent past, and present.[2] The notary’s pen stroke at the end of one artist’s latinized name, Hieronima Parasoli, could easily have been wrongly transcribed as Hieronimo. But cross-referencing this evidence with a portrait still at the Accademia by an anonymous artist confirms the sitter’s identity as the female Roman printmaker and book illustrator, Girolama Cagnaccia Parasole (c. 1567–1622) (fig. 1).[3] A cartouche is inscribed with another variant of her name: “Girolama Parasoli Sc./1612.” The “Sc.” is for sculptor, as printmakers were described because they carved different media—in her case, wooden blocks to create woodcuts. Girolama wears black and a widow’s veil, which relates to the painting’s inscription of 1612, the year she lost her husband, Leonardo Parasole, with whom she had made book illustrations for local publishers.[4] She was 45 years old when she became a widow, and she spent the next decade working on her own.[5]
Girolama Parasole among the “Illustrious” in the Portrait Collection at the Accademia di San Luca
Susan Nalezyty
Parasole’s Portrait at the Accademia
Fig. 1. Anonymous, Portrait of Girolama Parasole, before 1633, oil on canvas, Accademia di San Luca, Rome
Giovanni Baglione mentioned Girolama in his 1642 Vite de’ pittori, scultori et architetti; however, he conflated her identity with that of her sister-in-law, Isabella Catanea Parasole, who had published numerous lacework pattern books, one of which had a frontispiece engraved by Francesco Villamena. Baglione wrongly had it that Isabella, not Girolama, had married Leonardo Parasole, and that they had raised a son, Bernardino, who worked with the painter Giuseppe Cesari. He also mentions her work on illustrations for a book about herbal plants and flowers, Herbario nuovo di Castore Durante (1585).[6] Baglione perhaps gave Isabella more prominence because her name survives on her many books’ title pages. By contrast, much of Girolama’s signed work survives as illustrations in texts authored by someone else, mostly antiquarians and ecclesiastics, which he neglected to mention, choosing to focus on subjects more socially acceptable for women—that is, lacework and flowers.[7] There is no evidence Isabella knew how to carve woodblocks. Perhaps Girolama had been somehow involved with the illustrations in her sister-in-law’s books, though there is no evidence of this either.[8] Baglione’s mistake published 20 years after Girolama’s death endured for centuries. Even after this contradiction had been noted by Giovanni Incisa della Rocchetta in 1957, addressed in 1995 by Alessandro Zuccari and Marco Pupillo, and later expanded upon by Pupillo in 2009, it sometimes persisted in subsequent scholarship.[9] It is curious that Girolama’s portrait hung in the Accademia, documented by 1633, yet Baglione, who was active in the school’s governance and who might have regularly walked right past it, got her name wrong. He certainly knew the collection. In his Vite, he mentioned the existence of 24 portraits that hung at the Accademia and were listed on the 1633 inventory.[10]
The Didactic Potential of the Accademia’s Collections and Library
A distinct group by 1624, this portrait collection’s inception date remains shadowy. A 1625 apostolic visit to the church of San Luca and Martina references the portraits, underscoring that viewership comprised not just students and faculty, but also high-ranking church officials and other visitors.[11] Examining the three inventories of the Accademia’s collection taken within a decade of one another is like looking through the keyhole of a door to an early modern classroom for teaching art. In general, inventories as documentary evidence provide a sort of eyewitness for displayed works. An inventory writer’s words are often summary, yet they can disclose the relationship between the things described and the people describing them. Some inventories are organized by the topography of the space in which the works were displayed, or objects might be listed in categories assigned by the writer. These lists can convey hierarchies of value for the names of artists listed, the most highly regarded usually receiving pride of place at the top.[12] Incentives for initiating an inventory can take a variety of forms, such as when the owner dies or when objects are moved from one location to another.[13]
Fig. 2. Anonymous, Portrait of Antonio Tempesta, before 1633, oil on canvas, Accademia di San Luca, Rome
At the Accademia on October 20, 1624, the newly appointed principe, Simon Vouet, initiated an inventory because the decision had been made to consign all things that were in the academy to the principe.[14] Five days later, an inventory of the contents of a room above the church of San Luca—likely the fienile (hayloft)—was taken.[15] Here many items were stored, among which were nine “portraits of ancient painters” set in round, gilded frames. There were also 53 “portraits of painters and sculptors” mounted in black frames. The studio had originally been one large room, but by 1625 the physical space seems to have expanded into two rooms. The largest had many chairs, something like a lecture hall. The other space held sculptural fragments and casts, suggesting that this was the studio.[16] In 1627 the current principe, Ottavio Leoni, initiated another inventory of the contents of the armoire in the studio above the church. There were by then 58 “portraits of several dead painters,” all but three of them in black frames.[17] Six years later, the principe Francesco Mochi asked for a more detailed inventory of two rooms contiguous to the church.[18] There we learn that nine round portraits of painters with black and gilded frames were observed. Further down the list are other “portraits of illustrious painters.” Important here is that these artists are described not as being “ancient” or “dead,” as in the previous inventories. In 1633 they are “illustrious.” This adjectival change acknowledges their didactic potential: the sitters were respected for their achievements, they had become models for the students to follow, and their number had grown from 58 to 69.[19]
The earliest of these artists was Simone Martini. Michelangelo, Raphael, and Titian were the first three listed on the inventory, which conveys their fame and significance. Caravaggio and Annibale Carracci—though not easily traceable as academicians—were included, as was Agostino Carracci, who painted and made prints, like Antonio Tempesta (fig. 2). Girolama and Leonardo Parasole had often copied Tempesta’s work to make book illustrations and prints. Girolama’s, Tempesta’s, and Carracci’s portraits paralleled three northern European printmakers included in this hall of fame: Albrecht Dürer, Hendrick Goltzius, and Lucas van Leyden. A portrait of the iconographer Cesare Ripa was also included, and noted in later inventories of 1656 and 1658. But by the late 17th century, a subsequent inventory of the collection documents that it was no longer displayed with the group, and it is missing today.[20] Francesco Villamena, whose portrait also hung at the Accademia, must have based his engraved portrait of Ripa on that missing painting, because its format closely resembles his many surviving portraits (fig. 3). It was subsequently used in the front matter of the 1625 Paduan printing of his emblem book, Iconologia.[21]
Fig. 3. Francesco Villamena, Portrait of Cesare Ripa, engraving, The British Museum, Creative Commons (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0)
These portraits were part of a larger assemblage of books and objects that served as reference material and pedagogical tools.[22]
Some artists with portraits displayed at the Accademia also had their
written works represented in the library. Although the editions of these
books were not noted, Dürer’s Four Books on Measurement (1525) was there, as were two copies of Ripa’s book (first edition, 1593; first illustrated edition, 1603). Ovid’s Metamorphoses was on hand to consult for composing classical subjects. Sebastiano Serlio’s treatise, Seven Books of Architecture (1537–1575), was on the bookshelf, as was Leon Battista Alberti’s On the Art of Building (1443–1452). Giovanni Lomazzo’s Treatise on the Art of Painting, Sculpture and Architecture (1585) provided a theoretical text for studying visual art, and Baldassare Castiglione’s Courtier (1528) provided advice for interacting in a courtly context.
An often-overlooked impact of early modern collections is their value as indicators of the means of educating artists. These three inventories show that fragmentary plaster casts of legs, arms, and torsos, as well as a model of the church of San Luca, were also available for study. There were plaster heads of Bacchus, Seneca, and a gladiator, as well as a torso of Venus. There was a copper copy of the figures from Michelangelo’s chapel, which could have been a printer’s plate. And available for study was an autograph Michelangelo sculptural fragment of a shoulder and part of a torso. Accademia members also donated paintings: an allegory of Virtue by Baglione, a landscape by Paul Bril, an Assumption by Ottavio Leoni, and an Eve by Baldassare Croce, all of which are thought to have been lost. These assembled items resemble a museum’s beginning, works that seeded the robust collection that survives today.[23] They were images and objects to be viewed and to be handled, like today’s museums, which preserve permanent and teaching collections. These items would have contributed to the Accademia’s educational mission. Peter M. Lukehart has established the evolution of the Accademia’s pedagogical approaches that gained focus with Pope Gregory XIII’s 1577 brief in which it was declared that the academy’s mission was to “instruct studious youth in the practice of the arts.” A fully realized statement and accompanying statutes with its foundation followed on March 7, 1593. A look at the school’s teaching materials, then, can serve to fill in the gaps of understanding left by the rich documents of the Accademia’s congregazioni (meetings), which provide little insight into the theoretical or practical training for students. Romano Alberti’s Origin and Progress of the Academy (1604), however, provides a critical source for understanding the shape that instruction took during Zuccaro’s time as the first principe.[24]
Studying this text, Pietro Roccasecca has inferred the Accademia’s didactic objectives, which had been conceived of as two entities: the academy and the studio, the latter of which was dedicated to educating young artists. These youth were ranked from beginner, to aspiring academics, and finally to studied academics, who could eventually participate fully in the intellectual life of the institution. From the ranks of senior members, instructors were chosen annually to hold a temporary position to instruct younger students, and every two weeks academicians presented discorsi (lectures) to peers and men of letters.[25] Within the academy’s pedagogical context, then, the sculptural fragments and casts would have been deployed for hands-on instruction in the studio. The books would have been source texts for theoretical content, which might have been discussed in lectures. And all the while, the “illustrious” faces of the portraits silently gazed upon students and instructors who taught and learned in the school’s spaces.
Visual art’s ability to inform young minds had long been acknowledged within a domestic context. The early 15th-century Dominican preacher Giovanni Dominici had written a treatise in which he advised mothers to display pictures of the Virgin and Child for moral instruction to the children in their homes.[26] The casa/studio of the 17th-century painter Elisabetta Sirani operated as a domestic space, a place for socializing with patrons, and a studio for training artists. Inventories of this family workshop list drawings, prints, and plaster casts by Dürer, Carracci, and Michelangelo, and its small library shelved books by Ovid and Ripa.[27] The same artists and authors documented at the Accademia in Rome were being gathered as teaching resources in Bologna. In Rome, elite palatial interiors were spaces that anticipated public museums, some even attracting a viewership not associated with the family, including students of visual art.[28] Carefully chosen and thoughtfully organized things can form hierarchies and convey narratives that guide and teach the viewer. Gail Feigenbaum has observed that the history of art was worked out on the domestic walls of Roman collectors, who promoted artists’ works as much as Vasari had in the pages of his Vite de’ più eccellenti pittori, scultori, e architettori.[29]
This approach of display as a method of canon formation by a pedagogical institution shows how the Accademia di San Luca was seeking to define artists’ education in a largely undefined field. The school’s walls were decorated somewhat like a Roman palace, the portraits engendering a formal and institutional atmosphere within modest spaces. This hall of fame originates from the custom of exhibiting illustrium imagines. Ancient Romans exhibited portraits as homage to their ancestors, and this impulse was renewed with more attention to Petrarch’s writing, especially his On Illustrious Men.[30] Arranging chronological biographies was the organizing concept that Vasari had chosen for his 1550 Vite. Under Vasari’s influence, the 1563 ordinances of the Florentine Accademia delle Arti del Disegno declared an intention to display works of art in a frieze to document artists, beginning with Cimabue. And in 1568, Vasari illustrated the second edition of his Vite with artists’ portraits, each framed in all’antica architectural borders.[31] The Accademia portraits follow a similar, albeit more austere, painted format, and Baglione, who modeled his Vite after Vasari’s, referenced many of them to document their existence as well as to justify his own choices to include or exclude artists in his book of biographies.
The Portrait Collection’s Curators and Donors
Fig. 4. Ottavio Leoni, Cristoforo Roncalli, 1623, engraving, National Gallery of Art, Gift of W.G. Russell Allen, 1941.8.18
One guiding hand is not usually the case in institutional collections built over many years, but just who was chosen to appear in the Accademia’s gallery of faces must have been a subject of considerable debate at the academicians’ adunanze (meetings). The artists who composed most of these paintings are unknown. According to Baglione, however, Antiveduto Gramatica painted his own portrait, Orazio Borgiani painted Tommaso Laureti’s portrait, and Ottavio Leoni painted Tommaso Salini’s.[32] A bound volume of Leoni’s drawings in Florence has six portraits closely resembling those listed in the 1633 inventory: Annibale and Agostino Carracci, Caravaggio, Antonio Tempesta, Cristoforo Roncalli, and Ludovico Leoni.[33] From these drawings, Leoni engraved portraits, dating from 1621 to 1625, as for example his print after Roncalli’s portrait (fig. 4).[34] This suggests that these drawn and printed images were the models from which the painted portraits were composed. Inscriptions on the versos of Michelangelo’s, Dürer’s, Baccio Bandinelli’s, Adam Elsheimer’s and Jacopino del Conte’s portraits read that Leoni donated them in 1616.[35] Leoni’s own portrait was not listed on the 1633 inventory, but his stepson, Ippolito Leoni, painted Ottavio’s portrait and donated it in 1633, according to an inscription on its verso.[36] Leoni himself as the newly appointed principe had called for the 1627 inventory that listed 58 portraits, perhaps to learn who was already included and who might need to be added. Eleven more were counted six years later. This suggests that Leoni was a driving force behind expanding the Accademia’s portrait collection.[37]
Principi would have had sway in decision-making. Ottavio Leoni drew, engraved, and then painted a portrait of his father, Ludovico Leoni, which he donated to the Accademia, according to Baglione.[38] Verso inscriptions on the portraits of Matthijs Bril and Bernardino Cesari document that their brothers, Paul Bril and Giuseppe Cesari, respectively, donated their portraits in 1622. A verso inscription on Luca Cambiaso’s portrait states that it was donated by Cambiaso’s student, Bernardo Castello, who likely based it on a self-portrait in the Uffizi.[39] Understanding how some of these donors’ intentions led to the inclusion of men personally important to them can perhaps illuminate how Parasole—a woman working as a book illustrator in the commercial sphere—could have come to be included. Although not nearly as influential as a principe, Rosato and Bernardino Parasole might have influenced decisions to include a member of their family. Girolama’s brother-in-law Rosato appears in documents as a witness in the Accademia’s administrative meetings: one for the appointment of a procurator and another for the receipt of a payment. Girolama’s son Bernardino had been present at that 1624 meeting in which the principe ordered an inventory of the collection.[40] Bernardino’s connections to Giuseppe Cesari and Cristoforo Roncalli make it likely that they would have also spoken in favor of Girolama’s inclusion. And Girolama and Leonardo’s working record of making prints and book illustrations after many of Antonio Tempesta’s images also makes it likely that Tempesta would have spoken on her behalf.[41]
Fig. 5. Anonymous, Portrait of Sofonisba Anguissola, before 1633, oil on canvas, Accademia di San Luca, Rome
The only other woman represented in the portrait collection in 1633 was Sofonisba Anguissola (fig. 5). However her portrait was mistakenly based on a painting of an unknown woman—a picture that did not portray Anguissola but was painted by her, now found in the Château de Chantilly (fig. 6). The error to choose this richly dressed woman as the model for Anguissola’s Accademia portrait discloses how she was perceived by the copyist far away in Rome. Her elegant appearance is somewhat in keeping with her position as a painter at the court of King Philip II. It appears, however, something like the visual equivalent to how Pietro Paolo de Ribera described her in his 1609 biography, saying that she had been courted by Spanish and Italian knights and had dressed as other ladies at court, wearing rich fabrics of gold and necklaces with jewels and pearls. As Julia Dabbs has observed, regularly repeated topoi that male biographers deployed when writing about female artists were not without their own inaccuracies and stereotypes. Often, for example, they emphasized a female artist’s internal and external virtues, such as her humility or her beauty.[42] The Accademia portrait is not at all like Anguissola’s many self-portraits, in which she is often rather austerely dressed and her hair simply arranged. By comparison, Parasole’s middle-aged face is quite un-idealized. Her mouth pulls slightly to one side, composed as if by someone who knew her personally, which is likely given that she lived in a neighborhood filled with artists who would have known her and her family.[43]
Fig. 6. Sofonisba Anguissola, Portrait of a Woman, c. 1560, oil on canvas, Musée Condé, Chantilly © Musée Condé, Chantilly / Bridgeman Images
Parasole’s inclusion stands out because her role in the commercial sector as a block cutter for Roman book publishers certainly differed from Anguissola’s success with patrons at court. Indeed the latter’s profession was more in line with the reverent ideals regarding visual art that had been promoted by the Accademia at its founding in 1593. The selling of sacred or profane images in a window or other public place was discouraged.[44] The inclusion of these portraits of women artists, who died within three years of each other, convey a type of display attached to their biographies, whether known firsthand to academy members or perceived from a literary or historical distance. Anguissola had been valued for her international fame, and Parasole for her local recognition. Their portraits at the Accademia also rather epitomize the presence of women as accademiche di merito.[45] They were included, but were far fewer than the men attending and teaching. From 1607 forward, women, like foreigners, could apply for membership but had no voting rights on school governance.[46] It is unknown whether Girolama was a member of the Accademia during her lifetime. Her name has not been found in any other documents, but regardless she would have been banned from participating in administrative meetings, something that makes her inclusion within the Accademia’s portrait collection even more extraordinary: her portrait was displayed as a sign of the esteem in which she was held during the first half of the 17th century.
Recovering Early Modern Esteem for Parasole
Fig. 7. Girolama Parasole, “Giove Pluvio,” from Cesare Baronio, Annales Ecclesiastici (Rome, 1594), 2:209, Bibliothèque municipale de Lyon
This brief survey of the Accademia’s portrait collection reveals that multiple hierarchies were being narrated. A culture that exalted genius prevailed, as indicated by the 1633 inventory that listed Michelangelo, Raphael, and Titian first. Family relations of current academy members were also added, subtly promoting the paradigm that fathers and brothers were evidence of the innate ability of current members—a form of self-promotion by artists, some of whom saw to their own portraits being added later. But if artistic merit had been the only requirement for inclusion, then this art school’s mission to teach hard work and diligence to learn a craft also needed to be promoted. Parasole’s career certainly represented that ideal. Her work very likely did not hang in Roman palaces, like Caravaggio’s; instead, her inclusion reflected her contributions to publications that served the institution’s religious and educational mission. Perhaps Cesare Ripa had been included for a similar reason. Artists employed his emblem book as a source for composing traditional iconographic subjects and allegories. The Accademia had two copies of it in its library. Documentary evidence, in fact, tells that Leonardo Parasole had been contracted to cut blocks for illustrations in Ripa’s 1603 edition, the first to have images since its initial publication in 1593.[47] There are no illustrations signed by Girolama for the Ripa second edition, but she signed one woodcut of “Giove Pluvio” in the Annales Ecclesiastici (1594) published by the Oratorians (fig. 7).[48]
Fig. 8. Girolama Parasole after Antonio Tempesta, Torture by Wheel, from Antonio Gallonio, De SS. martyrvm crvciatibvs (Rome, 1594), 44, Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale di Roma. Creative Commons, Public Domain Mark 1.0
The Parasole woodcuts for this evangelizing history illustrated artifacts from antiquity, cited as evidence of the church’s long history and traditions. This 12-volume series was the official reply to the Protestant Magdeburg Centuries.[49] Leonardo and Girolama Parasole maintained strong ties to the Congregation of the Oratory of Saint Philip Neri.[50] Also for the Oratorians’ press, the Parasole family delivered illustrations for its Tortures of the Holy Martyrs (1594). In this Latin edition, Girolama signed an illustration of types of torture by wheel, composed from Antonio Tempesta’s engravings in the first edition (fig. 8).[51] Translated from Italian, this second edition disseminated the veneration of early Christian witnesses in a more universally understood language. It could also have served as a kind of visual reference book for artists seeking to compose images of martyr saints, an encyclopedia of ways to die through torture, like Ripa’s Iconologia, but for sacred images.
There is no evidence that Girolama, or any woman, taught at the Accademia, but perhaps the academicians valued her contributions to resources for artists. Underlying the institution’s educational mission was the church’s Counter-Reformation goals. Alberti’s Origin and Progress of the Academy tells that Pope Clement VIII appointed Gabriele Paleotti and Cardinal Francesco Maria del Monte as “educator[s] of reform”—that is, that the institution would follow post-Tridentine artistic reforms.[52] This might be another reason why academicians respected Parasole’s work, because it aligned with the Accademia’s larger values attached to the church, which promoted the veneration of saints.
Late 16th- and early 17th-century Rome was a place where visual artists could earn a living and raise their families, as Leonardo and Girolama Parasole had. The finding of a great many artists’ names mentioned in primary documents is an important contribution of The History of the Accademia di San Luca, c. 1590–1635. By exploring the possible motivations for Parasole’s inclusion in the Accademia’s portrait collection, recognizing its didactic potential and acknowledging the esteem it would have conveyed to viewers, we can at least partially recover the reasons Girolama Parasole’s contemporaries felt she merited a place among the artists in the Accademia’s collections. At the same time, it is important to be attentive to the lived experiences of early modern women, which were not always autonomous and were constrained by societal and legal limitations. Despite these restrictions, a recently deceased female artist was included within that group of prominent male artists. This conveyed an important message. A teaching institution in early 17th-century Rome promoted Girolama Parasole as an “illustrious” artist—one therefore worthy of emulation.
Notes
[1] Archivio di Stato (ASR), TNC, uff. 15, 1624, pt. 4, vol. 102, fols. 210r–v, 211r–v, 219r; ASR, TNC, uff. 15, 1627, pt. 3, vol. 113, fols. 27r–v, 28r–v, 41r–v; ASR, TNC, uff. 15, 1633, pt. 1, vol. 135, fols. 516r–v, 517r–v, 544r–v. All documents from the Archivio di Stato di Roma are found in the Trenta Notai Capitolini (TNC), Ufficio (Uff.) 15, and are transcribed on The History of the Accademia di San Luca, c. 1590–1635: Documents from the Archivio di Stato di Roma.
[2] ASR, TNC, uff. 15, 1633, pt. 1, vol. 135, fols. 516r–v, 517r–v, 544r–v; Zygmunt Wazbinski, Il Cardinale Francesco Maria del Monte: 1549–1626 (Florence, 1994), 2:558–566; Peter M. Lukehart, ed., “Appendix: Documents and Primary Sources Relating to the Early History of the Accademia di San Luca and the Università dei Falegnami,” in The Accademia Seminars: The Accademia di San Luca in Rome, c. 1590–1635, CASVA Seminar Papers 2 (Washington, DC, 2009), 376–380; Marica Marzinotto, “La collezione dei ritratti accademici: Origine, incrementi e definizione dei modelli iconografici nei secoli XVI e XVII,” in Atti dell’Accademia Nazionale di San Luca (Rome, 2009–2010), 218–220.
[3] Giovanni Incisa della Rocchetta, La collezione dei ritratti dell’Accademia di San Luca (Rome, 1979), 35; Marco Pupillo, “Gli incisori di Baronio. Il maestro ‘MGP,’ Philippe Thomassin, Leonardo e Girolama Parasole (con una nota su Isabella/Isabetta/Elisabetta Parasole),” in Baronio e le sue fonti, ed. Luigi Gulia (Sora, 2009), 846–847; Evelyn Lincoln, “The Parasole Family Enterprise and Book Illustration at the Medici Press,” in The Medici Oriental Press: Knowledge and Cultural Transfer around 1600, ed. Eckhard Leuschner and Gerhard Wolf (Florence, 2022), 118.
[4] Gian Ludovico Masetti Zannini, Stampatori e Librai a Roma nella seconda metà del Cinquecento (Rome, 1980), 214–219; Christopher Witcombe, Copyright in the Renaissance: Prints and the Privilegio in Sixteenth-Century Venice and Rome (Boston, 2004), 209–210.
[5] Pupillo 2009, 846–847; Dizionario biografico degli Italiani, “Parasole Cagnaccia, Geronima,” by Maria Rosario Mancino, accessed May 16, 2024,
https://www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/geronima-parasole-cagnaccia_(Dizionario-Biografico)/.
[6] Giovanni Baglione, Le vite de’ pittori, scultori, et architetti. Dal pontificato di Gregorio XIII del 1572. In fino a’ tempi di Papa Urbano Ottavo nel 1642 (Rome, 1642), 394–395; Lincoln 2022, 102–103; Furio Rinaldi, “The Roman Maniera: Newly Identified Drawings,” Metropolitan Museum Journal 52 (2017): 136–141, esp. n. 30; Francesca di Castro, “Isabella Catanea Parasole e il ‘Teatro delle nobili et virtuose donne,’” Strenna dei Romanisti 45 (2004): 240n19; Enciclopedia delle Donne, “Elisabetta e Girolama Parasole,” by Annalisa Rinaldi, accessed January 24, 2022, http://www.enciclopediadelledonne.it/biografie/elisabetta-e-girolama-parasole/.
[7] Antonio Agustín, Dialoghi di Don Antonio Agostini arcivescovo di Tarracona intorno alle medaglie, inscrittioni et altre antichità (Rome, 1592), 125; Cesare Baronio, Annales Ecclesiastici (Rome, 1594), 2:209; Antonio Gallonio, De SS. martyrvm crvciatibvs (Rome, 1594), 44.
[8] Lincoln 2022, 112.
[9] Giovanni Incisa della Rocchetta and Nello Vian, eds., Il primo processo per San Filippo Neri (Vatican City, 1958), 2:213n1434; Museo di Palazzo Venezia, La Regola e la fama: San Filippo Neri e L’arte (Milan, 1995), 96, 497, 513; Pupillo 2009, 844n39; Evelyn Lincoln, “Invention, Origin and Dedication: Republishing Women’s Prints in Early Modern Italy,” in Making and Unmaking Intellectual Property, ed. Mario Biagioli, Peter Jaszi, and Martha Woodmansee (Chicago, 2011), 347–349; Lia Markey, “The Female Printmaker and the Culture of the Reproductive Print Workshop,” in Paper Museums: The Reproductive Print in Europe 1500–1800, ed. Rebecca Zorach and Elizabeth Rodini (Chicago, 2005), 56–58; Witcombe 2004, 209–213; Oliver Tostmann, “Isabella Catanea Parasole,” in By Her Hand: Artemisia Gentileschi and Women Artists in Italy, 1500–1800, ed. Eve Straussman-Pflanzer and Oliver Tostmann (Detroit, 2021), 99–100.
[10] Baglione 1642, 11, 52, 71, 73, 100, 106, 109, 119, 122, 126, 129, 133, 134, 139, 143, 147, 148, 159, 288, 292, 294, 306, 316, 321.
[11] Incisa della Rocchetta 1979, 13; Pietro Roccasecca, “Teaching in the Studio of the ‘Accademia del Disegno dei pittori, scultori, e architetti di Roma’ (1594–1636),” in Lukehart 2009, 142.
[12] Guido Rebbecchini, “Evidence: Inventories,” in Display of Art in the Roman Palace 1550–1750, ed. Gail Feigenbaum with Francesco Freddolini (Los Angeles, 2014), 27–28.
[13] Jessica Keating and Lia Markey, “Introduction: Captured Objects Inventories of Early Modern Collections,” Journal of the History of Collections 23, no. 2 (2011): 209–213.
[14] ASR, TNC, uff. 15, 1624, pt. 4, vol. 102, fols. 184r–v, 185r–v, 198r–v.
[15] ASR, TNC, uff. 15, 1624, pt. 4, vol. 102, fols. 210r–v, 211r–v, 219r; Wazbinski 1994, 2:369–375; Lukehart 2009, 369–372.
[16] Peter M. Lukehart, “Visions and Divisions in the Early History of the Accademia di San Luca,” in Lukehart 2009, 173–174; Roccasecca 2009, 141–142.
[17] ASR, TNC, uff. 15, 1627, pt. 3, vol. 113, fols. 27r–v, 28r–v, 41r–v; Lukehart 2009, 372–375.
[18] ASR, TNC, uff. 15, 1633, pt. 1, vol. 135, fols. 516r–v, 517r–v, 544r–v; Wazbinski 1994, 2:558–566; Marzinotto 2009–2010, 218–220; Lukehart 2009, 376–380.
[19] Incisa della Rocchetta 1979, 25–42, 111–147. For a discussion on the importance of the donation of artworks by the artists’ own hands, see Peter M. Lukehart, “By Honor or by Merit: Women Artists in the Accademia di San Luca, c. 1600–1700,” in Art Academies in Europe and the Americas, 1600–1900, ed. Peter M. Lukehart, Ulrich Pfisterer, and Oscar Vázquez (forthcoming).
[20] Marzinotto 2009–2010, 220, 223; Incisa della Rocchetta 1979, 13n6.
[21] Cesare Ripa, Della novissima iconologia (Padua, 1625), n.p.
[22] Roccasecca 2009, 142–147.
[23] Wazbinski 1994, 2:551–565.
[24] Lukehart 2009, 165–174, 184.
[25] Roccasecca 2009, 124–127.
[26] Cited in Patricia Fortini Brown, “Children and Education,” in At Home in Renaissance Italy, ed. Marta Ajmar-Wollheim and Flora Dennis (London, 2006), 136–143.
[27] Adelina Modesti, “‘A casa con i Sirani’: A Successful Family Business and Household in Early Modern Bologna,” in New Perspectives on the Early Modern Italian Interior, 1400–1700, ed. Stephanie Miller, Elizabeth Carroll Consavari, and Erin Campbell (Burlington, VT, 2013), 47–64.
[28] William Stenhouse, “Visitors, Display, and Reception in the Antiquity Collections of Late-Renaissance Rome,” Renaissance Quarterly 58, no. 2 (Summer 2005): 397–434.
[29] “Introduction,” in Feigenbaum 2014, 1–24.
[30] Christiane L. Joost-Gaugier, “The Early Beginnings of the Notion of ‘Uomini Famosi’ and the ‘De Viris Illustribus’ in Greco-Roman Literary Tradition,” Artibus et Historiae 3, no. 6 (1982): 97–115.
[31] Marzinotto 2009–2010, 198.
[32] Baglione 1642, 73, 288, 294; Incisa della Rocchetta 1979, 34, 37, 38; Marzinotto 2009–2010, 258.
[33] Biblioteca Marucelliana, Volume H, 2r, 3r, 4r, 5r, 9r, 16r; Wazbinski 1994, 2:56–59.
[34] Mark McDonald, The Paper Museum of Cassiano Dal Pozzo: A Catalogue Raisonné, vol. 2, The Print Collection of Cassiano dal Pozzo: Ceremonies, Costumes, Portraits and Genre (London, 2017), 2:913–917.
[35] Incisa della Rocchetta 1979, 30, 31, 33, 38.
[36] Incisa della Rocchetta 1979, 38.
[37] Marzinotto 2009–2010, 207.
[38] Baglione 1642, 122.
[39] Incisa della Rocchetta 1979, 32, 37.
[40] ASR, TNC, uff. 11, 1598, pt. 4, vol. 40, fol. 415r–v; ASR, TNC, uff. 15, 1612, pt. 3, vol. 55, fol. 599r–v; ASR, TNC, uff. 15, 1624, pt. 4, vol. 102, fols. 184r–v, 185r–v, 198r–v.
[41] Madeleine C. Viljoen, “Prints,” in Making Her Mark: A History of Women Artists in Europe, 1400–1800, ed. Andaleeb Badiee Banta, Alexa Griest, and Theresa Kutasz Christensen (Baltimore, 2023), 220.
[42] Pietro Paolo de Ribera, Le Glorie Immortali de’ Trionfi, et Heroiche Imprese di Ottocento Quarantacinque Donne Illustri antiche e moderne dotate di conditioni, e scienze segnalate (Venice, 1609), 313–316; cited in Julia Dabbs, Life Stories of Women Artists, 1550–1800: An Anthology (New York, 2009), 1–20, 106–111.
[43] Lincoln 2022, 117–118.
[44] ASR, TNC, uff. 11, 1593, pt. 1, vol. 25, fols. 425r–v, 426r–v, 427r–v; Lukehart 2009, 171.
[45] Lukehart forthcoming.
[46] Monica Grossi and Silvia Tranni, “From Universitas to Accademia: Notes and Reflections on the Origins and Early History of the Accademia di San Luca Based on Documents from Its Archives,” in Lukehart 2009, 31, 36. See also Lukehart forthcoming.
[47] Lincoln 2022, 115.
[48] Baronio 1594, 2:209; Lincoln 2022, 105.
[49] Giuseppe Antonio Guazzelli, “Cesare Baronio and the Roman Catholic Vision of the Early Church,” in Sacred History: Uses of the Christian Past in the Renaissance World, ed. Simon Ditchfield, Howard Louthan, and Katherine Elliot Van Liere (Oxford, 2012), 52–55; Lincoln 2022, 105–108.
[50] Dizionario biografico degli Italiani, “Parasole Cagnaccia, Geronima”; Lincoln 2022, 103–105.
[51] Gallonio 1594, 44; Lincoln 2022, 108–109.
[52] Romano Alberti, Origine, et progresso dell’Academia del dissegno de pittori, sculptori e architetti di Roma (Pavia, 1604), n.p.; cited in Marcello Beltramme, “Le teoriche del Paleotti e il friformismo dell’Accademia di San Luca nella politica artistica di Clemente VIII (1592–1605),” Storia dell’arte 69 (1990): 202; cited in Lukehart 2009, 171, 177–178.