Historically Yours · field notes

Behind the synthetic portraits and voices

Before this project, what did you imagine these women looked and sounded like? Did you know them at all?

Which historical cliché are you?

A “highly scientific” personality test. Your answers stay on this device.

Cleo · Cleopatra VII

1. Before today, I thought of Cleopatra mainly as…

Toinette · Marie Antoinette

2. My first thought about Marie Antoinette was…

3. I imagined her with…

4. I believed her voice would be…

Henri · Henrietta Swan Leavitt

5. Before today, I knew Henrietta as…

6. I imagined her sounding…

Our host: Cleo

Cleopatra VII

69–30 BCE

Bronze coin bearing a profile portrait of Cleopatra VII
MintedBronze coin, Alexandria, 51–31 BCE. Photograph: Daderot, CC0. Image source ↗
Ancient marble bust identified as Cleopatra VII
SculptedMarble bust, c. 40–30 BCE, Altes Museum Berlin. Photograph: Louis le Grand, Public Domain. Image source ↗
Theda Bara portraying Cleopatra in the 1917 film
Silent SirenTheda Bara in Cleopatra (1917), Fox Film Corporation. Public Domain. Image source ↗
Elizabeth Taylor portraying Cleopatra in the 1963 film
Epic IconElizabeth Taylor in Cleopatra (1963), 20th Century Fox publicity image. Image source ↗
The project's synthetic portrait of Cleo
AI, Imagine HerOpenAI GPT Image 2.0, prompted by Lina Ruth Harder. No reference image supplied.

Cliché as Charged

Roman writers cast her as a dangerous foreign seductress who bewitched powerful men. She was a ruler negotiating with an expanding empire.

Who shaped her memory?

Cleopatra ruled Ptolemaic Egypt from 51 to 30 BCE. Her coins were political images, not passport photos, and nobody recorded her voice.

Greek and Roman writers, including Plutarch, wrote after Rome defeated her. Later retellings kept the seduction and often misplaced the government, languages and diplomacy.

Her popular afterlife

Medieval writers made her devoted, Shakespeare made her gloriously complicated, and later art turned her into an exotic femme fatale. Hollywood added spectacle: Claudette Colbert in Cleopatra (1934), then Elizabeth Taylor in the lavish Cleopatra (1963). Each age found the Cleopatra it fancied.

Our host: Toinette

Marie Antoinette

1755–1793

Chalk portrait of Marie Antoinette in a park by Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun
Painted to PleaseMarie Antoinette in a Park, Vigée Le Brun, c. 1780–81. Public Domain. The Met ↗
Revolutionary caricature depicting Marie Antoinette as a dragon
Made a MonsterMarie Antoinette as a Dragon, anonymous French print, 18th century. Public Domain. Image source ↗
Lobby card showing Norma Shearer portraying Marie Antoinette in the 1938 film
Screen QueenNorma Shearer in Marie Antoinette (1938), MGM lobby card. Public Domain. Image source ↗
Kirsten Dunst portraying Marie Antoinette in Sofia Coppola's film
Pop RoyaltyKirsten Dunst in Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette (2006). CC0. Image source ↗
The project's synthetic portrait of Toinette
AI, Imagine HerOpenAI GPT Image 2.0, prompted by Lina Ruth Harder. No reference image supplied.

Cliché as Charged

Revolutionary writers painted her as a greedy, sexually corrupt foreign queen who let France starve. The cake quote was invented, although her privilege was real.

Who shaped her memory?

Marie Antoinette became queen in 1774. Court portraits polished her image; revolutionary pamphlets and caricatures made her foreign, sexual and ruinously extravagant.

Her privilege was real. So were gendered inventions. She was innocent in the Diamond Necklace affair and probably never said “let them eat cake”. Nobody recorded her voice, though costume dramas remain undeterred.

Her popular afterlife

She has been recast as traitor, martyr, bad mother, fashion icon and doomed teenager. Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette (2006) wrapped Kirsten Dunst in pastel excess and pop music. The look escaped the film and marched into fashion, design and museum culture. Apparently the revolution could not kill the brand.

Our host: Henri

Henrietta Swan Leavitt

1868–1921

Historical photograph of Henrietta Swan Leavitt
CapturedHenrietta Swan Leavitt, unknown photographer, published 1922. Public Domain. Image source ↗
Harvard Observatory staff, including Henrietta Swan Leavitt, holding hands in a line around 1918
Calculated TogetherHarvard Observatory staff in “paper doll” pose, c. 1918. Harvard University Archives. Image source ↗
Laura C. Harris portraying Henrietta Swan Leavitt beside a telescope in Silent Sky
Star of the StageLaura C. Harris as Henrietta in Ford’s Theatre’s production of Lauren Gunderson’s Silent Sky (2020). Photograph: Scott Suchman. Ford’s source ↗
Colourful illustrated Forces of Nature poster depicting Henrietta Swan Leavitt
Science IconForces of Nature: Henrietta Swan Leavitt, Perimeter Institute. Poster source ↗
The project's synthetic portrait of Henri
AI, Imagine HerOpenAI GPT Image 2.0, prompted by Lina Ruth Harder. No reference image supplied.

Cliché as Charged

Her institution treated her as a diligent female “computer” doing careful work for male astronomers. Her discovery helped them measure the universe.

Who shaped her memory?

At Harvard College Observatory, women “computers” measured stars from photographic plates. It was skilled work with restricted status and lower pay.

Leavitt found the relation that lets astronomers measure vast distances. Others used it to redraw the universe. Her plates and notes survive; her voice does not. Institutions are still correcting the credit.

Her popular afterlife

For decades, Leavitt barely had one. Her discovery travelled further than her name. Later books, exhibitions and Lauren Gunderson’s play Silent Sky brought her forward as the overlooked woman scientist. Useful repair, though “quiet genius denied credit” can become its own tidy script.

Why a podcast?
Historically Yours podcast cover showing Cleo, Toinette and Henri around microphones

A podcast sounds intimate, current and confidently informed. It gives three women from the past the cultural equipment of present-day authority: microphones, branding and opinions on demand. Synthetic speech makes that authority suspiciously easy to manufacture.

The cover deliberately borrows the cliché of women gathered to gossip. Put men around microphones and we are invited to see a serious discussion; put women there and suddenly it is chatter. Research offers no such tidy divide, but the stereotype persists. Historically Yours uses it, then lets the hosts discuss empire, revolution, science and your problems. They gossip too. So did plenty of historians, only with footnotes.

Gossip and gender stereotypes — Journal of Gender Studies ↗

A very brief history of the Dialogues of the Dead

Long before chatbots, writers were already putting words into dead people’s mouths. In the second century, Lucian of Samosata wrote thirty short dialogues set in the Underworld. Rulers, heroes, philosophers and rich men discover that death is a ruthless equaliser. Status travels badly; the powerless get the best lines.

The Underworld also makes impossible meetings possible. People divided by centuries can gossip, argue and judge one another. Fontenelle’s New Dialogues of the Dead (1683) used these encounters to test reputations, ideas and vanity. The dead were very useful for criticising the living.

In the eighteenth century, David Fassmann turned the form into a popular periodical mixing biography, politics, news and entertainment. His Secretary even carried letters, books and reports from the living into the realm of the dead. Audience messages from “above” are therefore less unprecedented than they look.

Historically Yours turns this old literary trick into a podcast. Earlier authors decided every line in advance. Here, Cleo, Toinette and Henri respond to one another and to the visitor as the conversation unfolds. AI does not recover the women or their voices; it keeps producing new words for fictional approximations of them.

Read Lucian — Perseus Digital Library ↗
View Fontenelle’s 1683 book ↗
The early German dialogues — Brill ↗
The form’s later European life — Sorbonne Nouvelle ↗

Use of AI
AI-generated portrait of Cleo AI-generated portrait of Toinette AI-generated portrait of Henri
AI-generated

The portraits were made with OpenAI GPT Image. I asked for modern versions of the three women as podcast hosts with microphones and supplied no historical images. I added jokes, including Toinette’s ship hair; the model supplied the eyeliner, gold, powdered excess and modest woman scientist. Apparently centuries of visual culture make excellent autocomplete.

Claude generates the live dialogue, ElevenLabs performs the human-written scripts and generated replies, and Suno generated the programme music. These are inventions, not reconstructions. Their confidence is part of the problem.

Lina Ruth Harder created and edited the concept, characters, prompts, scripts, interface and historical framing.

Sources have viewpoints too. Plutarch wrote more than a century after Cleopatra and participated in a Roman literary tradition. Court portraits managed royal reputations. Archives preserve some lives more fully than others. Read the sources beside one another, and ask what each one was made to do.