Early modern court artists may have enjoyed great freedom, but their positions came with frustrations. A broad outline of the varied activities of court artists based on documentary evidence was published by Martin Warnke in The Court Artist (German ed., 1985; English trans., 1993). Warnke listed about two hundred male artists who had been granted titles in European courts before 1800, but he only mentioned in passing two female artists. This collection of essays aims to address this neglect. Using methods similar to Warnke's, Christina Strunck found forty-three female artists who received commissions from courts, including nineteen who drew regular salaries or had permanent appointments. Notably, Strunck distinguishes in her list those artists who were offered court positions but refused them, perhaps to maintain their freedom. Other patterns emerge: female court artists were often given the title of lady-in-waiting to a noblewoman. Their beauty and comportment were prized as much as their talent, which sometimes set them apart as oddities. Strunck, like Warnke, considers artists whose careers began before 1800, whereas the stated range of this book is 1450 to 1700. As a result, she emphasizes women who belonged to academies or hosted salons, two institutions that were only beginning to be important before 1700.

The essays that follow are case studies of women who worked in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Jennifer Courts deals with Caterina van Hemessen, who was lady-in-waiting to Mary of Hungary, governor of the Netherlands. Courts argues that the innovative qualities of Caterina's self-portrait, dated 1548, appealed to Mary and that the court appointment was an end in itself. With no signed paintings after 1552, and only two documents that probably refer to her at court around 1555–56, Courts relies on parallels with other female court artists to construct a plausible picture of Caterina's duties at court that may have included translating, art tutoring, and portrait painting.

Sofonisba Anguissola served in the court of Philip II of Spain, where she was lady-in-waiting to Isabel of Valois, Philip's third wife. Cecilia Gamberini emphasizes how Sofonisba's father used family connections to secure her appointment, since two other male members of the family served in Philip's court before Sofonisba was invited. Once there, Sofonisba stopped signing paintings, but she surely kept producing them. She was paid for her service to the queen, which included entertaining her “even with painting” (95) and giving her art lessons. Gamberini presents new insights into Sofonisba's personality: her participation in a failed attempt to escape the confines of the court, her depression when the queen died, and her disappointment when her responsibilities were transferred to the deceased queen's daughters rather than the new queen.

Maria F. Maurer considers the work of Diana Mantouana, who translated the designs of Giulio Romano and others into engravings. Maurer's gendered interpretation of the terms inventor and fecit to credit the designer and engraver respectively is not convincing; however, her reading of other inscriptions on the prints does add nuance to our knowledge of Diana's professional strategies. Diana was not a member of the court in any real sense, although her dedications do suggest that she hoped the court of Mantua would support her work.

Adelina Modesti's essay concerns two young women who were sent to Paris to receive training in the latest styles of embroidery and lacemaking by Florence's Grand Duchess, Vittoria della Rovere. Needle arts were clearly as important to the Florentine court as other forms of visual art, and Vittoria's concern for the well-being of the girls is heartwarming. The connection between the duchess and her artists goes beyond funding.

If having a professional title defines the court artist, only Luisa Roldán would qualify. If getting a regular salary was a secondary condition, even she would barely qualify: often Roldán was not paid at all, and when she was, it was hardly enough to feed her family. Roldán had an established career in Seville making large-scale polychromed wooden religious sculpture before she moved to Madrid, hoping to serve in the court of the Spanish King Carlos II. Her appointment as Sculptor to the Royal Chamber did not translate into a lucrative career, and she developed a market in smaller terracotta sculpture that appealed to buyers outside the court. Catherine Hall-van den Elsen's essay is a story of resilience and frustration, since Roldán always struggled as an outsider and died in poverty.

These essays invite comparisons among female artists working in different media and serving in varying capacities. The collection is not a true synthesis, but it is an important step in giving these women visibility.