Il Ritratto di E...

Acrylic on canvas · 100 × 150 cm, 2026

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« Illustrissima Signora — Poiché spesso ad un oppresso da gran male l'esempio d'un maggiore alleggerisce il martire, non trovando io alla pena mia altro rimedio, volsi l'animo a l'incendio di Troia e misurando con quello il mio, conobbi senza dubbio nissun male entro a quelle mura essere avvenuto che nel mezzo del mio petto un simile non si senta, lo quale cercando in parte affogare, di quel di Troia dolendomi, ho scoperto il mio; onde lo mando a voi, acciocché egli per vera simiglianza vi mostri gli affanni miei, poi che ne i sospiri, ne le lagrime, ne il dolor mio ve l'han potuto mostrare giammai. »

Ippolito de' Medici, dedication to Giulia Gonzaga, from his translation of Aeneid, Book II (1539)

This letter introduces the translation of the second book of the Aeneid that Cardinal Ippolito de' Medici dedicated to Giulia Gonzaga, the widowed countess of Fondi, choosing her as the sole object of his devotion: in these pages, the burning of Troy becomes the mirror of a grief that sighs and tears had never managed to show.

The story of their relationship is wrapped in legends never fully verified. Some say it was Ippolito who saved Giulia from the corsairs' assault on Fondi in 1534, when the pirates of Khayr al-Din Barbarossa tried to abduct her for the sultan's harem. Others tell that she reached him at Itri, on his deathbed, the following year. Some claim their bond was nothing more than a platonic love, contained entirely in verse and letters. None of these versions can be called certain.

One thing alone is beyond dispute: Ippolito de' Medici (whose unfinished portrait Igorski painted as a companion piece to this one) worshipped Giulia. He dedicated verses to her, chose her as his muse, and in 1532 commissioned Sebastiano del Piombo to paint the only portrait of her ever made from life. The original has been lost, but its many copies survived through the centuries: it is from this constellation of faces that Igorski composed his own, built up in glazes according to an antique technique, in the language of metaphysical realism. Stripping away Renaissance coldness, he sought to give Giulia new breath, as though he himself, the author of the first authentic portrait, were beholding her in the flesh.

This story has no ending, and so, without it ever being a declared intention, Giulia's portrait too was left unfinished, just like Ippolito's.

The piece was painted specifically for Vivila 2026, in Fondi, where it was unveiled to the public on 22 August as a tribute to eternal beauty: Giulia earned the fame of the most beautiful woman in the world, and was immortalised in other verses too. Ludovico Ariosto celebrated her beauty in canto XLVI of Orlando Furioso:

Julia Gonzaga, che dovunque il piede
volge, e dovunque i sereni occhi gira,
non pur ogn'altra di beltá le cede,
ma, come scesa dal ciel dea, l'ammira.
La cognata è con lei, che di sua fede
non mosse mai, perché l'avesse in ira
Fortuna che la fé lungo contrasto…

Ludovico Ariosto, Orlando Furioso, XLVI, 8
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