Diego Velázquez, the greatest painter of Baroque.
13, Coronation of the Virgin.
This depiction of the Holy Trinity crowning the Virgin Mary was most likely commissioned
for the oratory of the court of Elisabeth of France, Queen Consort to Philip IV of Spain,
in the Real Alcázar of Madrid, the site of today’s Royal Palace of Madrid.
There it joined other artworks concerning Marian religious festivities by the Naples
painter Andrea Vaccaro, which were brought to Madrid by Cardinal Gaspar de Borja y Velasco.
Velázquez’ portrayal of the Coronation of the Virgin is an unusual work in his oeuvre
at the time, which was more concerned with court and intimate portraits.
The painting exudes a powerful air of naturalness and simplicity, rarely found in religious
works by other Baroque painters.
Its structural composition is based on an inverted triangle, providing a sense of equilibrium
through its use of harmonious lines and its appearance is reminiscent of a heart both
in its colour and form.
At the centre the Virgin Mary, with lowered eyes and bearing a modest and reverential
expression, points towards her own chest, reinforcing the heart symbolism.
To the right a venerable old man represents God, while Jesus Christ is portrayed as a
long-haired figure; together they hold a crown above Mary’s head.
In the centre the Holy Spirit is depicted in the form of a white dove, which is presented
in line with the heads of Christ and God, at the triangle’s base, signifying their
equality in importance.
Also notable are the cherubs surrounding the Virgin at the bottom of the image, echoing
the works of Murillo and Raphael’s famous puttos in the Dresden Madonna.
14, The Rokeby Venus.
Completed between 1647 and 1651, this famous painting depicts the goddess Venus in a sensual
pose, lying on a bed and looking into a mirror held by her son, the god of love, Cupid.
The Rokeby Venus is the only surviving female nude by Velázquez, as nudes were particularly
rare in seventeenth century Spanish art, at a time when such artworks were rigorously
censored by the Spanish Inquisition.
Several works, from the ancient times to the Baroque art movement, have been cited as sources
of inspiration for the image.
The nude Venuses of the Italian painters, such as Giorgione’s Sleeping Venus (c. 1510)
and Titian’s Venus of Urbino (1538), are principal examples.
The Rokeby Venus is portrayed without the mythological paraphernalia normally associated
with depictions of the scene; jewellery, roses and myrtle are all absent.
Unlike previous portrayals of the goddess, which show her with blond hair, Velázquez’
Venus is a brunette and she can only be identified as the goddess due to the presence of her
son, Cupid.
When the painting was first recorded in an inventory, it was described as “a nude woman”,
probably owing to its controversial nature.
Venus looks outward at the viewer through her reflected image in the mirror.
However, the image is blurred and reveals only a vague reflection of her facial characteristics
and the reflected image of the head is much larger than it would be in reality.
Intertwining pink silk ribbons are draped over the mirror and curl over its frame.
The folds of the bed sheets echo the goddess’ physical form and are used to emphasise the
sweeping curves of her body.
The composition is formed mainly of shades of red, white and grey, which are used even
in Venus’ skin, contrasting with the dark greys and black of the silk she is laying
on.
The subject’s luminous skin shimmers with pearly reflections of flesh tones, while a
single brushstroke, laden with black paint, masterfully traces the line that runs beneath
her body from the middle of the back to below the calf.
The painting was hung in the houses of Spanish courtiers until 1813, when it was brought
to England and purchased by John Morritt for £500 and on the advice of his friend Sir
Thomas Lawrence.
Morritt hung it in his house at Rokeby Park, Yorkshire, therefore explaining the painting’s
popular name.
In 1906, it was acquired for the National Gallery by the newly created National Art
Collections Fund, its first campaigning triumph.
King Edward VII greatly admired the painting and anonymously provided £8,000 towards its
purchase, becoming a Patron of the Fund thereafter.
On March 10, 1914, the suffragette Mary Richardson walked into the National Gallery and attacked
Velázquez’ canvas with a meat cleaver.
Her action was ostensibly provoked by the arrest of her fellow suffragette Emmeline
Pankhurst the previous day, although there had been earlier warnings of a planned suffragette
attack on the collection.
Richardson left seven slashes on the painting, causing damage to the area between the figure’s
shoulders.
However, the damage was successfully repaired by the National Gallery’s chief restorer
Helmut Ruhemann.
Richardson was sentenced to six months’ imprisonment, the maximum allowed for destruction
of an artwork.
In a statement to the Women’s Social and Political Union shortly afterwards, Richardson
explained, “I have tried to destroy the picture of the most beautiful woman in mythological
history as a protest against the Government for destroying Mrs. Pankhurst, who is the
most beautiful character in modern history.”
She added in a 1952 interview that she didn’t like “the way men visitors gaped at it all
day long”.
15, Portrait of Juan de Pareja.
In 1648, Velázquez was sent to Rome to purchase works of art for the Alcázar in his role
as court painter to Philip IV of Spain.
The artist brought with him Juan de Pareja, a slave serving as an assistant in his workshop.
During his stay in Rome, Velázquez executed the following oil portrait of Juan de Pareja,
which was displayed as part of a larger exhibition of paintings at the Pantheon on 19 March 1650.
According to Antonio Palomino’s biography of Velázquez, the painting “was generally
applauded by all the painters from different countries, who said that the other pictures
in the show were art but this one alone was ‘truth’.”
Velázquez painted the portrait of Juan, who was of Moorish descent, in his workshop, as
an exercise in preparation for his official portrait of Pope Innocent X.
The Pope, a ruddy-faced man, who would be depicted in the bright pink and crimson robes
of his office, presented a challenging study in both colour and composition.
Moreover, since he would be executing a portrait from life, Velázquez would be forced to work
quickly while still capturing the essence of Innocent X’s character.
The portrait of Juan de Pareja reflects Velázquez’ exploration of the difficulties he would encounter
in the Pope’s portrait.
To compensate for a restricted palette, Velázquez adopted a loose, almost impressionistic style
of brushwork, allowing an intense vitality to his subject.
Juan de Pareja (c.1610–1670) became an artist in his own right and in 1654 he was freed
by Velázquez.
The following portrait was purchased by New York’s Metropolitan Museum in 1971.
At the time, the purchase price of over $5.5 million set a new record for paintings at
auction.
The sale became a source of some controversy both for the museum and for its director,
Thomas Hoving, who led the effort to acquire the painting, considering it one of the finest
paintings in the museum’s collection.
16, Portrait of Innocent X.
Completed during his second visit to Italy between 1649 and 1651, the portrait of Pope
Innocent X is among Velázquez’ most celebrated creations.
The portrait presents the Pope in light linen vestments, suggesting it was most likely painted
during the summer in 1650.
The artist included his signature on the paper the Pope is holding, though it is difficult
to read the date.
According to an unconfirmed report, while visiting the Vatican City, Velázquez, already
a renowned painter, was granted an audience with the Pope.
He offered to paint a portrait, but Innocent X doubted Velázquez’ skill.
Hence, he asked the artist to offer some proof of his painting skills.
It would have been then that Velázquez painted the portrait of his slave Juan de Pareja (the
previous plate).
Once the Pope saw this portrait, he reportedly allowed Velázquez to paint his portrait.
Legend records that when the Pope saw the finished portrait, he exclaimed, somewhat
disconcerted: “Troppo vero!”
(all too true!), though he was not able to deny the intrinsic quality of the portrait
as a masterpiece.
Experts doubt the veracity of this story, arguing that the Pope allowed Velázquez to
paint him as he had already painted with great success other members of the inner papal court,
including the Pope’s personal barber.
The portrait was kept on private display by the subject’s family, the Pamphilj, who
would display it in the Doria-Pamphilj gallery where it remains to this day.
It was a relatively secret masterpiece for much of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries,
only known to some connoisseurs who, nonetheless, would inevitably praise the painting as one
of the finest portraits ever produced.
The French historian Hippolyte Taine judged it to be “the masterpiece amongst all portraits”,
claiming that “once it has been seen, it is impossible to forget”.