Nobody Expected This Spanish Inquisition!
A Violence-Packed Visit To The Prado Museum in Madrid
Recently, I had a wonderful time at the Caspar David Friedrich exhibition in Hamburg, Germany. The exhibition focused on iconic works of art that I already worshipped, and I acquired an even greater appreciation and admiration for those works. I noticed new colours and made comparisons that I hadn't previously considered, which was an incredibly joyful and emotional experience.
This article will discuss a few works from my recent visit to the incredible Prado Museum in Madrid. While there were many amazing works with which I was already familiar, a select few previously unfamiliar works stood out to me. I will share what was special about them and the lessons we can learn from them for our future museum visits. Let's begin!
The Execution
Execution of Torrijos and his Companions on the Beach at Málaga, Antonio Gisbert Pérez, 1888)
As mentioned in my article “Great Art Doesn't Have To Be About Grand Moments”, I am not the biggest fan of history painting. However, there are few examples that resonate with me most profoundly. Something about the grand scale of the history painting allows a unique emotional response that smaller-scale art is unable to achieve.
“Execution of Torrijos and his Companions on the Beach at Málaga” is a massive full-size masterpiece by the Spaniard Antonio Gisbert Pérez (1834–1901). What surprised me about this painting is how it grabbed my attention. Firstly, the painting depicts a very dramatic scene, an execution. We can see two robed priests; one is tasked with blindfolding the next one in line, and another one administers the last rites for these condemned men, one after the other. Then, the firing squad from behind awaits them.
Despite the dramatic nature of the scene, it is surprisingly tranquil. The neutral shades of blue, grey, and brown give us a sense of calmness. If we were to “listen” to the painting, we wouldn’t hear screams or any begging for mercy. These men have accepted their fate, and they have accepted it proudly. They would do it again.
As I started examining the painting, my gaze was fixated on that man in the grey coat in the middle. If you were to zoom in on the picture, you’ll see that he is looking directly at you, the viewer. He is aware of what’s going on. He knows he is being watched, and he has no regrets. Indeed, you don’t see anyone with a regretful face. There is sadness, there are no smiles, and the kneeling man on the far left might appear scared, but it’s rather ambiguous. The man beside him, who crosses his arms, seems quite disinterested. You can imagine him saying: “Let’s get on with it already!”. There is much hand-holding and interconnection between these men; they have all accepted their fate, saying farewell to each other. They are passionate and brave men who fought for their values; they are heroes.
The painter's stance is clearly depicted in the painting, which portrays a tragic historical event in Spain in 1831. The artwork depicts the execution of José María Torrijos y Uriarte and his fellow liberal revolutionaries, who were opposing the oppressive rule of King Ferdinand VII. The painting effectively conveys the historical context without the need for additional explanation, which is a hallmark of a great historical painting.
The Shipwreck
(Episode after Trafalgar, Francisco Sans Cabot, 1862)
In the same room, almost directly across from the “Execution of Torrijos and his Companions on the Beach at Málaga”, this incredible masterpiece by Francisco Sans Cabot (1828–1881) lies. “Episode after Trafalgar” is another massive, dramatic, life-sized historical scene, filled with luscious neutral colours, smooth brushstrokes, and magnificent light work.
This composition is inspired by Géricault’s painting “Raft of the Medusa”, which depicts the survivors of the French frigate Méduse. The ship wrecked off the coast of Senegal in 1816, and only 15 out of 147 people survived after 13 days on a raft. The painting captures their rescue, highlighting their suffering, desperation, and fragile hope. It is a dramatic representation of human endurance and a critique of the incompetence and corruption that led to the tragedy.
Like in the Medusa, a central triangular shape creates the focal point where the two heroes lie: Two Spanish sailors who have just returned from the battle of Trafalgar (1805). The older sailor appears to be the captain of the ship, as his uniform is more embellished. He is holding the younger sailor on his left shoulder and his captain’s sword in his right hand. This, along with their similar physical appearance, indicates that they are father and son.
Despite losing the battle, the duo survived, only for their warship to be beached during a storm.
One of the things that strikes me about this picture is the calming nature of it. Unlike the aforementioned “Raft of the Medusa”, which could be described as a horror scene, the sailors here are calm. Despite the fact that some of their fellow sailors died in the dramatic scene, there is hope. Examine the gaze of the father and son — they don’t look at the death surrounding them and the difficult situation they have found themselves in. They gaze at the horizon, away from the scene, away from the shipwreck, and into their future. There is optimism despite the bleak situation.
Other sailors, like the ones in the bottom right side of the picture, also seem to be looking forward. They don’t seem frightened or even sad but tired. They have just returned from a massive naval battle in which they lost to the British. By this point, they have witnessed death for a long time, and they just want to go home.
Hope for them is not lost! On the top left, two birds imply that there is indeed a future for at least some of these sailors. There is hope they might survive that terrible scene. In this sense, this painting starkly contrasts the “Raft of the Medusa”, whose intention was to shock the viewers about that horrendous scene. Here, Cabot wishes to focus on the future, the son’s generation. On the other hand, the piece could be emblematic of Spanish nationalism in that the painting illustrates a Spanish nation that can overcome losses and emerge stronger and more united. Further, there is a sense of generational optimism. Perhaps when the captain’s son reaches his father’s age, there will be, as John Lennon said, “Nothing to kill or die for”.
The Landscape
(The Mancorbo Canal in the Picos de Europa, Carlos de Haes, 1876)
In a small room dedicated to Realist paintings, I encountered this incredible landscape by the Belgian-born Spanish landscapist Carlos de Haes (1829–1888). Like the previous paintings, it’s a large-scale picture, though not nearly as big as the previous ones. It is a wonderful portrayal of the foot of the Picos, one of Europe’s largest mountain ranges in northern Spain. It is considered a realist landscape because there is no idealisation here, but a raw depiction of the natural beauty that stood before Haes. The rough textures and use of light are reminiscent of the Barbizon School style. Much like in “Episode after Trafalgar” the composition here is also triangular, with the central mountain serving as the focal point.
In the serene lower portion of the centre of the painting, there is a picturesque scene featuring three contented cows and a solitary human figure leisurely reclining on the verdant grass. If one were to immerse oneself in the painting, one could revel in the tranquil symphony of nature, punctuated by the occasional gentle "moo" of the cows and the soothing melody of water trickling in the nearby stream. The luxuriant green grass appears to be an inviting and welcoming carpet, creating an atmosphere where humans and animals coexist in perfect harmony and tranquility.
I long to transport myself to this idyllic setting, to recline amidst the splendid trees and rocks, and to be serenaded by the delightful chorus of chirping birds. It reminds me of my visit to Switzerland, where I had the privilege of reclining by a beautiful lake and listening to the majestic sound of cowbells and enjoying some wonderful Gruyère cheese. That is the power of great landscapes; it takes us back to our favourite places and sweet memories.
Conclusion
When visiting a great art museum, one should expect a sundry of various art-encounter types. Some paintings can elicit unexpected curiosity and pleasure, as exemplified by the emotional impact of "Execution of Torrijos and his Companions on the Beach at Málaga". Additionally, certain artworks may evoke associations with other pieces, leading to a more profound understanding of the painting and increased enjoyment through comparison and contrast, much like the intricate connections found in "Episode after Trafalgar". Furthermore, encounters with paintings such as "The Mancorbo Canal in the Picos de Europa" can provide a sense of familiarity and comfort, similar to the experience of savouring a perfectly cooked steak.
Despite the extensive literature available on art, nothing surpasses the live experience. Therefore, I highly recommend visiting art museums to personally engage with great art, as it offers many enriching experiences.
Agreed? Disagreed? Have you any questions or comments? Let me know in the comment section below!
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"Amongst our weaponery are such diverse elements as fear, surprise, ruthlessness efficiency, an almost fanatical devotion to the priest and nice red uniform...Oh, damn!"
Great article btw. Somehow the first painting draws me into wondering what the priests were thinking while performing their "rituals". Especially the one with his head slightly upwards on the right.
Reminds me of the torture museum I went to see in Amsterdam. One of the things they had was a pot they boiled their sinners alive in (what I think was) the earlier years of the Spanish Inquisition, and the description was something along the lines of "the fire would boil away their sins making them perfectly good in the eyes of God". Damn eye-opening stuff for someone who did not grow up under the horrors of religion. Maybe these priests followed the same logic, as a lot of people still do these days.