I research women performing on the early-modern stage, and particularly, the first time inclusion of women in performance in the Commedia dell’Arte. Recently, I have written on the work of Isabella Andreini, actor, member of the Gelosi troupe, playwright, letter writer and academy member. Among Andreini’s most famously documented performances is her appearance as a Turkish woman who loses her mind, and her clothes in The Madness of Isabella (la pazzia d’Isabella), performed for the nuptials of Ferdinando de’ Medici and Christine of Lorraine in Florence in 1589. In that performance, Andreini’s proximity to her onlooking male and female audience in the Uffizi theatre suggests she yielded great force in the presentation of her body in a time in which the presence of women performers was still forbidden in many European nations. The fact that Andreini characterized a foreign woman and spoke a number of languages further transgressed notions regarding women’s verbal self-expression at a time when Alberti and de Barbaro’s written decries for female silence were still respected. And yet, despite these exhortations, in her performance, for no less than a wedding of the high aristocracy, Andreini spoke in various languages, including French, which catered to the bride rather than the groom. More dramatically, in the performance Andreini “tore” her clothes from her body in a scene in which the character Isabella expressed anguish over her lost lover. Notwithstanding the end of the performance, in which in keeping with Renaissance comic conventions, order is restored when Isabella receives a magical potion and her intended, Oratio, agrees to marry her despite his undiminished love for Flaminia, the subversions during the performance are still astonishing today.
The two basic challenges I face in my interpretation of this performance are a) what did “nudity” on the stage actually translate to? b) What did nudity and the appearance of an actual, speaking woman mean then? The first challenge, a question of theatre history, may be more easily solved. We know silk body stockings were used in Renaissance performances in which nudity was required. The Gelosi inventory includes silk stockings, though the props listed for the performance do not specifically include them. Our documents detailing the nudity are derived from the scenario, a brief plot summary, and only one account of the performance. In these materials, nudity is referred to, but to what extend does that mean that Andreini’s body was actually visible to her spectators, we can only guess. The second question, involving the cultural reception of Andreini’s verbalization and nudity is challenging, for it is impossible to understand another historical period’s attribution of meaning to performed, public acts. Theory, it appears, can be most useful here, particularly the ideas of Peggy Phelan (on the marked and unmarked body) and the articulations of Judith Butler of performativity. At the same time, the application of these theories back in time raises problems of interpretation, and I am aware of the danger of a synchronic reading. Some basic questions my research involves are: What do the “solution” of the carnivalesque body, the return to order and the nuptials of the multilingual madwoman signify in terms of women’s projection of an empowered, verbally assertive self- identity? What did it mean to audiences of her day? How does one gage the performance when materials available derive only from courtly contexts and little is written about popular performances we know the Gelosi took part in? Did nudity change in different stages?