A Conversation with Allison Levy
Allison Levy is fascinated by widows. Since her Bryn Mawr dissertation on widow portraiture, the assistant professor of art history has been asking important questions about the sociocultural implications of such pictures. Why were they painted? How did they function? And for whom? The answers to those questions are discussed in Widowhood and Visual Culture in Early Modern Europe (Ashgate, 2003), a collection of 15 essays on the topic. Levy took a few minutes away from her current research in Florence, Italy, to talk about the impact of early widow portraiture on gender studies today.
What is so interesting about early modern Europe as a place and time for the image of widowhood?
Even though the art and culture in question is centuries old, some of the most innovative ideas and theories about sex and gender are being generated in the fields of art history, history and literature of early modern Europe. For example, the study of women and gender in the past decade or so has offered some of the most vital challenges to our understanding of early modern culture, especially about the status of women. 
Joining these provocative debates, I set out to reconsider the circumstances and experiences of a particular--and relatively powerful--group of women: widows. In early Renaissance Florence, 25 percent of the general population of adult women were widows. By comparison, only 4 percent of adult men were widowers. The prevalence of widows at this time caused a considerable amount of anxiety among the male community for at least a couple of reasons. First, these sexually experienced women were now independent and again available; second, they did not always fulfill their expected social role as primary mourner. Given this anxiety, as well as the abundance of existing portraiture, there seemed to be a sociocultural demand--if not an urgency--to portray these women precisely as widows. In other words, even if she took a lover or remarried, her image as an ideal widow, framed and hung on the wall, was perpetuated for generations.
How do those early representations inform contemporary images? For example, where does the "merry widow" concept originate?
There are so many popular images of the widow: as old and ravaged, as destitute and decrepit, as lustful temptress--the "merry widow." These pictures portray a substantial segment of the early modern European population as marginalized figures; they were anything but! As I came to understand through my research, the realities of widowhood paint a very different picture of the woman as relatively powerful, visible and vocal. Still, stereotypes persist. For instance, newspapers often identify a woman as a widow; rarely do we read about widowers. Why? The book explores the universal significance of widowhood and visual culture and raises questions of gender. In the afterword, I begin with the role and representation of Jackie Kennedy in 20th-century culture, and move to contemporary war widows, both Western and non-Western. I also include a section on costume and fashion and the changing significance of black dress. I really enjoyed writing that piece-it's nicely illustrated with some very sexy widows!
How would we amateur art historians go about recognizing representations of widowhood in works of art? Are there certain universal themes or imagery?
The widow in the Western tradition is depicted with a somber expression, dressed in black, brown or another dark color, and is usually veiled. She sometimes holds a ring or handkerchief or wears pearls, references to her husband's memory and to her chastity. But we never really know if she was truly in mourning for her husband or not; despite the image, the reality may well have been one of merry widowhood!
What is your favorite piece of art in this genre?
The cover illustration--a 17th century double portrait by Gerard van Honthorst of a widow holding a portrait of her presumably deceased husband. I say "presumably" because there are examples of portraits of wives as widows commissioned prematurely by husbands! In this work, we do not know if she mourns at the right time. The most suggestive detail is her expression: She seems to be simultaneously obedient, mournful and chaste, yet also humiliated, dismissive and bored. This ambiguity is what has fascinated me from the start.