(REVIEW) Artemisia Gentileschi was a highly distinguished painter of the Italian Baroque and the most famous female artist in Europe in the first half of the 17th century. Yet, like many artists of the period, she was soon forgotten, and only in recent years have feminist art historians written her back into the art history books.

Artemisia initially trained in the studio of her father, the celebrated Italian painter Orazio Gentileschi, one of Caravaggio’s earliest followers. She was sent for further tuition to the painter Agostino Tassi, who in May 1611 raped the young artist. A graphic account of the attack is preserved in documents relating to the seven-month trial that followed, in which Artemisia was tortured to ensure the veracity of her testimony. Tassi was eventually convicted and incarcerated.

These traumas resound throughout Artemisia’s work, detected in works such as “Self Portrait as Saint Catherine of Alexandria” (about 1615-17), a life-size painting in which she depicts herself as the early Christian martyr, who was tortured for her beliefs and condemned to death on a spiked wheel that miraculously shattered and left her unharmed.

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Artemisia’s self portrait, which takes inspiration from Caravaggio’s treatment of the subject, is closely cropped with dramatic, directional light, drawing attention to the saint’s penetrating gaze. Portrayed as a resilient figure, Artemisia has one of her hands resting upon the broken wheel, the other holding an upright palm frond, the symbol of a Christian martyr.

That Artemisia chose to represent herself as Catherine suggests that she identified closely with the saint’s sufferings, although technical analysis has shown that the painting was already a self portrait before the crown, halo, palm and wheel were added. Nevertheless, the picture is indicative of the growing desire for religious art at the time, in line with the aims of the Counter-Reformation, in which the Catholic Church responded to Protestant iconoclasm by renewing its support for artists painting sacred subjects.

Artemisia’s remarkable self portrait is currently displayed at the Ikon Gallery in the British city of Birmingham, where it is on loan from the National Gallery in London. It is one of 12 iconic masterpieces from the collection that have been sent to museums around the U.K. to mark the gallery’s 200th anniversary.

In the darkened Birmingham gallery, the painting is spotlit and seems to glow amid the gloom. Here, it forms the centerpiece of "Mirror Martyr Mirror Moon,” an immersive exhibition by the Dublin-based contemporary artist Jesse Jones, which responds directly to Artemisia’s work with film, sculpture and installation.

Before you reach Artemisia’s painting, you are confronted with “Head of Prudence” (early 15th century), on loan from the nearby Barber Institute of Fine Arts. This two-headed marble sculpture by an unknown artist is a fragment of a larger allegorical figure representing Prudence, one of the four cardinal virtues of Christian tradition. Her two faces are intended to represent her watchfulness, allowing her to look simultaneously to the past and the future. For Jones, the sculpture represents a way of thinking about art history and its role in interpreting historical works for our present moment.

Jones describes herself as a “lapsed Catholic” and while she may not believe in organized religion, spirituality and mysticism are important touchstones in her practice. This is especially evident in “Moon,” which comprises a collection of three objects atop a mirror that has been set into a stone trough on the gallery floor. One is a stone bowl. Another is a bottle of sacred water collected from a seventh century Irish holy well in County Kerry dedicated to the healing of eyes. The other is a small white plaster head of Jones herself, which gazes like Narcissus at its own reflection.

Jones’ self portrait adds to the rich tradition of women taking control of how they are represented in art. Placed in sight of Artemisia’s painting and alongside the healing water, it speaks to what Jones describes as “the importance of cleansing the gaze from the masculine narrative of art history.” Visitors can even enter into this “cleansing” themselves: Twice a week, the gallery hosts a water ritual, which includes an interactive eye-cure ceremony.

The people of Ireland still make pilgrimages to holy wells, and it is considered that their prayers are more effective when a sacred fish is present in the water, often an eel. This is referenced in “The Well of Eels,” a scrim curtain printed with an image of the entangled creatures flanked by another depicting two female figures connected by their hands and feet. This references the ouroboros — an ancient alchemical symbol depicting a serpent eating its own tail, which represents the cycle of life, death and rebirth.

The curtain, attached to a rail that runs around the gallery, is moved to designated points throughout the day, revealing and shrouding aspects of the exhibition. Its movement adds another layer of performance to the enigmatic atmosphere.

Jones considers Artemisia’s self portrait to be a composite of three women: Gentileschi herself, St. Catherine (287-305) and the pagan philosopher Hypatia of Alexandria (around 370–415), who was murdered by an angry mob (some say she was killed for her paganism — others suggest there were political motivations).

The lives of all three, linked by their experiences of violence, are the subject of the moving and powerful film “Mirror Martyr Mirror Moon.” In it, the women’s words are sung by Colombian-American soprano Stephanie Lamprea, who is filmed performing on a two-way mirror stage, creating the impression of multiple performers and split personalities.

Lamprea’s entrancing voice resonates throughout the dark gallery, activating the space with a mix of operatic clarity and improvised guttural dissonance, almost as if her words were being regurgitated. There is a sense of deep, psychological struggle here. The score, composed by Irene Buckley, features the music of Artemisia’s friend Francesca Caccini and draws inspiration from the landscape of Mount Sinai in Egypt, where the body of St. Catherine was supposedly discovered 500 years after her death, reportedly with a stream of healing oil issuing from the corpse.

It is to Ikon Gallery’s credit that Jesse Jones has been entrusted to create this astonishing exhibition. The artist not only responds to Artemisia’s masterpiece with great originality but provides a lens through which to consider the portrait and its spiritual dimension afresh.

David Trigg is a writer and art historian based in the U.K. You can find him on Instagram @davidtriggwriter.