Author Rachel Blackmore share the monuments and paintings she turned to for inspiration when writing her debut novel about the mistress of the famous sculptor Bernini
Costanza is set in Baroque Rome, and is a story about art, obsession and redemption. As a historical fiction writer, I’m obsessed with how I can bring the world of my characters to life for readers; the texture of linen on skin, the odours of woodsmoke, perfumed oils and dung, a soundscape of bells and horses’ hooves and the clanging hammers of stone masons. Here I share some the art and buildings which shaped my novel, helping to ground me in the material world of my characters.
Caravaggio: light and shadow
While the novel centres on Costanza and her lover, the Baroque sculptor Gian Lorenzo Bernini, Caravaggio, the tempestuous master of chiaroscuro, became an important source. His paintings are a study in contrasts: light against darkness, sacred against profane, the exalted against the ordinary. Caravaggio scandalously depicted Rome’s sex workers and beggars as saints and virgins, and his portrayals gave me a detailed first-hand view of how Costanza’s neighbours might have looked, their faces, clothes and homes.
The Magdalene by Caravaggio
One painting in particular resonated deeply with Costanza was the The Penitent Magdalene. In this iconic work, Mary Magdalene is depicted not as the fiery sinner or the luminous saint, but as a young woman caught in an intimate moment of self-reckoning. Draped in a plain ochre dress, her jewellery discarded at her feet, she sits bathed in soft light, her expression a mixture of sorrow and hope. We come back to this image repeatedly in the novel. For me, the painting echoes the Magdalene laundries of the Catholic Church, places of confinement for so-called “fallen women”, which lasted into the 20th century. In the final third of the novel, this image becomes a symbol that serves as a lens through which Costanza confronts her own past and desire for redemption, as she seeks grace in a world built on judgment.
The Portrait of Costanza by Bernini
Bernini’s Portrait of Costanza broke all the rules when it came to female portraiture. Costanza’s curls spill over her shoulders, her lips parted as if caught mid-conversation. This is not the polished ideal of classical sculpture we had seen previously, but a living, breathing woman, captured in all her sensuality.
This was the only non-commissioned piece Bernini made in his long career, which tells us something significant about his relationship with Costanza. It is also an intimate portrait of Costanza captured through the male gaze, which in many ways limits our view of her. I wanted to convey this in the unveiling scene, when Costanza tells us this scandalous image of her is being shared without consent, echoing the cases of “revenge porn” we see today.
Is where Costanza and Bernini meet to study Caravaggio’s Madonna of the Pilgrims. Thought to be a chapel for courtesans, it was a place where Rome’s sex workers might have sought solace, confession, and perhaps absolution. The chapel’s dualities – faith and sin, devotion and desperation – felt deeply apposite for her story and we learn alongside Costanza the meaning behind the picture.
No story of Rome would be complete without the Colosseum. We know the building as a tourist attraction, but in the 17th century, the Colosseum was a shadow of its former self and was in an almost surreal state of menace and decay. Its travertine façade was eroded, and its stones were being looted for the construction of churches and palaces. Yet, even in its decline, the Colosseum was not entirely abandoned, being a place where criminals, the dispossessed and the homeless congregated. I liked this version of the Colosseum, which reflected the fragility of power and the inevitability of change – so used it to write a scene in which Costanza is forced to accept a present she doesn’t really want – a foreshadowing of events to come.
Ploy Radford 
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