The Spanish Masters of the Prado
Come along with me on a tiny journey of discovery.
Since there’s so much ground to cover, this post also focuses on one aspect of the Prado’s collection. I wasn’t originally planning to spend so much time talking about the museum’s collection, but it also makes sense because its collection is what makes the Prado… well, the Prado. This time, however, I’ll be focusing mainly on Spanish painters.
When it comes to Spanish artists, much of the focus of the Prado’s collection is on artists from the Golden Age of Spanish painting — think Velázques, El Greco, Murillo, Ribera, etc.
While I absolutely adore many of the works by those artists and the museum has an amazing assortment of them as well, some of my favorite paintings that I have seen during my explorations of the halls of the Prado are from Spanish artists of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.
Besides Goya, who painted during the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, I can’t really say that I knew very many (if any) other nineteenth-century Spanish artists. In my experience, a lot of the focus when teaching about European art of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries is mainly on artists in France and England — and in some cases Germany or other countries in northern Europe.
Because of this, I hadn’t heard of amazing artists like Joaquín Sorolla and Mariano Fortuny. Luckily, I’ve been introduced to their work — and the work of many other amazing Spanish artists — since being at the Prado, and I have been more than pleasantly surprised. Well, that’s putting it lightly… honestly, I’ve fallen in love.
The works of three artists, in particular, caught my eye when I was just passing by them on my way to see Goya’s Third of May in Madrid. The monumental paintings of Francisco Pradilla, Jose Carbonero, and Antonio Degrain hung on the wall, dwarfing me in their magnificence… Cliche sounding, I know. But they really are pretty amazing!
Of course, these tiny pictures can hardly do them justice…
The wonder is that the room they are in is hardly ever very crowded. In fact, this day it was practically empty. I could have stood there for quite a while just looking at the paintings: Queen Joanna the Mad, The Conversion of the Duke of Gandía, and The Lovers of Teruel (the three artworks that particularly caught my attention in that room).
The detail, brushstroke, color, and form apparent in these works are characteristic of the attributes that draw me to nineteenth-century painting, demonstrating the beginnings of that breaking away from the classical traditions of past centuries.
In the neighboring rooms, you’ll find the works of several other artists that are equally impressive, like the paintings of Eduardo Rosales, the beautiful landscapes of Aureliano de Beruete, and the impressive portraits of Madrazo — both Raimundo de Madrazo and Frederico de Madrazo. I didn’t know at first that there were two different Madrazos, but in the end, I realized that I am equally enthralled by the striking portraiture of both artists.
In addition to paintings, there is even a selection of several impressive sculptures that are scattered throughout the galleries. Seriously though, take a look at the sculptures because several of them are quite stunning.
After continuing on to see The Third of May, I decided to slip into the next room to see Goya’s Black Paintings. Seeing those works in person was a singular experience. Of course, learning about these paintings and seeing them on a projector screen is much different than actually being in the presence of these works.
The experience in front of a painting is never quite what you imagine it might be (whether for better or for worse), but there is a power and a presence behind an artwork that can only be experienced in person.
I can only imagine what it would have been like to see these paintings in their original context or to actually live with these works, as Goya did. There is much speculation as to the meaning of these paintings, but regardless of what they might mean . . . I think they truly give us a glimpse into the mind and psychological state of the artist during that time in his life.
The first time that I saw them in person, somehow the Black Paintings were not the images of nightmare that I’d imagined they would be. I did find that they evoked a feeling of deep reflection, but they were not as unsettling as I had found them on the projector screen of a dark classroom.
However, after going back to look at them again on a different occasion, I was struck by their nightmarish and disturbing quality. Whereas before I wasn’t as impacted by that unsettling aspect — although I did consider them strange and very psychological — my perception was somehow changed by a second look.
Another interesting area of the museum is that of the Spanish masters of the Renaissance. This area merges right into the medieval collections. There are some very impressive works in this section by artists like Juan de Juanes — who my coworker told me is sometimes fondly known as the “Raphael of Spain” — and Fernando Yáñez de la Almedina.
There is a decidedly Italian influence on Spanish painting during the Renaissance, and that is especially apparent in Almedina’s paintings. It is believed that he may have even worked directly with Leonardo da Vinci.
If you love the Renaissance, then you should definitely check out that section. Almedina’s Saint Catherine and Juan de Juanes’s Saint Stephen Series are a couple of my favorite paintings from that area.
To see the Spanish masters of the Golden Age (i.e. Velázquez, Ribera, Murillo, El Greco, etc…), you’ll have to head up to the first floor of the museum (the 2nd floor for us Americans).
There are rooms and rooms of their paintings if that’s your jam. Although only a couple of them are included in the museum’s recommended lists of works, I would highly suggest taking a look at some of the other ones as well.
For example, the recommended itinerary takes you to see Ribera’s Jacob’s Dream, but the painting right next to it — The Martyrdom of St. Phillip — is gorgeous as well, and it is a painting I remember learning about in one of my art history classes. Another beautiful work of Ribera’s is his Penitent Magdalene, and I was also very drawn to his Saint Joseph and the Christ Child.
Of course, it can sometimes be puzzling trying to figure out why some works are even considered masterpieces or more important than others. When I posed this question to a coworker, he explained to me what determines the works that they recommend — and what ultimately distinguishes a masterpiece from some other very nice painting.
It is often that those works which are considered masterpieces usually demonstrate some form of innovation by the artist, whether that be solely within their own body of work or in a more widespread sphere of influence. They illustrate something that hadn’t been seen previously in art or some detail that had a major influence on the trajectory of art history or the work of that particular artist.
That explanation helped me to better understand the reasoning behind some of the Prado’s choices as to what works are included in their list of recommended artworks — a thing which I had previously questioned in some cases as I followed their itinerary throughout the museum.
Hopefully, my experience has helped you get to know a few more Spanish artists. And if you are fortunate enough to see them in the Prado, then maybe you’ll fall in love just like I did!
I hope you get the chance to explore all that the Prado has to offer! And if you can’t do so in person, then check out their collection online at the link below.
Of course, there are several artists that I don’t even mention here because that would require a lot more time and space. So, if you have a favorite Spanish artist or artwork that I don’t mention, be sure to let me know in the comments!
