Academic Writing

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Masterpieces in the Prado Museum

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Depictions of Mary in
15th to 18th Century Spain

Since the great Spanish monarchies in the 15th century and onwards, Spain has established itself as one of the most adamantly Catholic nations in the western world. Through periods of religious conflict, including the Reformation in the 16th century, Christian art in Spain has served to reflect many of the cultural and ideological shifts that were taking place there. One of the key iconographical figures in the Catholic Church today is the Virgin Mary. But the modes of representation through which she has historically been depicted have been far from consistent; on the contrary, her existence is a highly mediated one. The procession from Byzantine style Hodegetria icons to later annunciations, adorations, assumptions, and immaculate conceptions all follow in tandem with respective religious movements of belief throughout the course of Spanish and European history.

In order to understand the significance of the Virgin Mary within Spanish art, it is necessary first to understand who she was in accordance with the scripture. Contrary to the abundance of material we have that represents Mary in religious contexts, her presence in the Gospels themselves is small. In her book Alone of All Her Sex, Marina Warner reviews this meager presence:

“The amount of historical information about the virgin is negligible. Her birth, her death, her appearance, her age are never mentioned. During Christ's ministry she plays a small part, and when she does appear the circumstances are perplexing and often slighting. She's never referred to by any of the titles used in her cult; in fact, she is not even always called Mary,” (Warner 14)

Mary appears most often in the Gospel of Luke, and then Matthew; her biggest presence is consistently during the infancy narrative. Within this narrative, we hear stories such as Annunciation, in which the Angel Gabriel appears to tell Mary that she will conceive the son of God. Other significant moments include her presence during Jesus’ first miracle at Cana, and mention in the Genealogy. These moments, though fleeting, are key in interpreting her significance and role as a holy figure. However, in most of the Bible, her mentions are brief and indirect.

As the Gospels themselves never describe Mary’s exact appearance, artists historically have made a point to repeat specific motifs and symbols make her easily identifiable in their work. The most common indication is her characteristic blue mantle. Warner explains this garment, saying that “as a sky goddess, Mary’s colour is blue. Her starry mantle is a figure of the sky… Blue is the colour of space and light and eternity, of the sea and the sky,” (Warner 266). She goes on to explain that, not only was it spiritually symbolic, but it served as an economic indicator, as blue was an expensive and regal pigment, which could only be obtained through crushed lapis lazuli imported from Afghanistan. As Mary was so often considered to be a highly important and holy figure, this association with holy grandeur made sense. She is also regularly depicted with either a red dress (symbolizing her humanity and passion) or a white dress (symbolizing her purity and heavenliness). There are also several works that depict her as crowned in some form; either with a literal crown, a halo of light, a circle of stars, or merely her shawl. As the allegorical “Queen of Heaven,” these symbols serve to designate Mary’s high status, and whether or not this importance is downplayed to humbleness by means of the type of crown depends on the message being conveyed through the work. In those works where she dons the full crown of heaven, her holiness is being championed, and as Warner mentions, “its appearance subtly underlines many arguments and tenets of the Catholic church, not only about the glory of Mary the individual, but also about the power of the church itself,” (Warner 103). Aside from these symbols, the other main signifier of Mary is through the recognizable subject matter of the painting itself.

Within the Catholic Church, there are four major dogmas that have been defined pertaining to the Virgin Mary. These are the immaculate conception, the divine motherhood, the assumption, and her perpetual virginity (Warner prologue xxii). The only one of these that is explicitly stated in the scripture is that of the divine motherhood; the other three have not always been widely accepted and were subject to much controversy before their official ratification in the Church (Warner 19).

The Divine motherhood and virginity are two of the earliest accepted dogmas regarding Mary. The titular “Theotokos,” meaning “Mother of God,” is used in this context. The title is frequently associated with earlier Byzantine works depicting Mary through Hodegetria icons, in which she is shown holding the Christ child and facing the viewer, as if to confer the blessing of her son onto the viewer. While some were averse to the title, in that they felt it to be an overstepping of her importance, for many this was one of the first and most crucial founding tenants of her iconographical success (Warner 65).

The dogma of Mary as an immaculate virgin is also one that has evoked much debate, largely due to lack of certainty within the Gospels. There are arguments on both sides as to the state of her Virginity before, during, and after the birth of Christ. Counter arguments have pointed to the fact that, before, she had been married to Joseph; that during birth her hymen would, in a natural situation, have been broken; that after, there is mention of Jesus’ half-brothers and sisters. However, the Catholic Church intentionally pushed the idea of her absolute chasteness in an effort to keep her image pure for symbolic purposes. If she could emblemize the paragon of virginity, then the Church would have an effective symbol to transmute ideas of power through righteousness, through purity of body and mind. As Warner puts it, “it was this shift, from virgin birth to virginity, from religious sign to moral doctrine, that transformed a mother goddess like the Virgin Mary into an effective instrument of asceticism and female subjection,” (Warner 49).

The dogma of the Assumption was borne largely of an attempt to resolve the question of Mary’s death, or lack thereof. As the Gospels say nothing of the circumstances of her death, not when, where, or how she died, many people have debated over the conditions of her passing. Though earlier works represented her death as that of a humanistic one, around the 15th century there is a huge increase in works depicting that of the Assumption. At its core, the Assumption follows the idea that Mary was assumed into heaven, transcending death and decay, to be seated in heaven among the Holy Trinity. Proponents of the idea have cited textual support in the New Testament: “So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal shall have put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory,” (1 Corinthians 15:54). As Mary was coming to represent the triumph of goodness over sin, of purity over evil, so her earthly death was overcome by heavenly victory.

The Immaculate Conception is likely the most intensely debated dogma of the four. It asserts that when Mary herself was conceived, she was kept from original sin, and was born pure (Warner 236). Suzanne L. Stratton reviews this subject in detail through her book The Immaculate Conception of Spanish Art. She introduces the concept, remarking that “it was Mary’s preservation from all taint of sin that made her the sole proper instrument by which God became man,” (Stratton I). On the grounds that any regular human would have harbored original sin, and thus would be unfit to conceive the Son of God, certain sects of Catholicism were fiercely battling over the validity of her purity. However, even after it had been generally accepted as doctrine, it wasn’t until the 17th century when works depicting the conception really took off (Stratton 66).

Within the works of Mary, there are many commonly repeated themes and narratives. Some of these refer back to the dogmas, including assumptions and immaculate conceptions, while others refer to biblical narratives, and others still are based more off of interpretations of Mary and her life. The earliest themes tend to be those based in the text of the gospel, including scenes from the nativity and life of Christ, as well as the Annunciation. These works are largely recognizable for their more literal, scenic representation of narratives. Of this form we have works such as The Nativity by Francisco de Osona (1464-1514) (fig 1), which depicts Mary and Saint Joseph kneeling in prayer beside the newborn Christ child. Other figures fill the space, including angels, Shepherds, and animals. It is one of many biblical stories that are retold through art, resonating with a devotional sense of devout faith. This is an earlier example of the common nativity scene we know today.

Another biblical theme that Osona took on was that of the Adoration of the Magi. In his painting of the same name (fig 2), also painted around 1500, depicted are the 3 kings adoring the newly born Jesus, seated in the lap of Mary in a way reminiscent of its predecessors in Byzantine tradition. Similar to the Nativity, this work specifically lays out a physical space to convey the sentiment of the surroundings described within the gospel. Among other significant biblical narrative works are those depicting the Annunciation. Following canon, these works depict the Angel Gabriel announcing to the Virgin Mary that she will conceive the son of God. Fra Angelico’s (1395 – 1455) painting of The Annunciation (fig 3) is a wonderful example of this, depicting Gabriel on the center left and Mary on the right. They are the two primary figures of the piece, as was the most common setup for works of this scene. Though sometimes other supporting figures may appear in the background, such as angels or biblical figures, the focal point remains strongly on Mary and Gabriel, in order to keep the intended narrative clear. Here we see her as a humble figure, a poor mother whose richness is in spirit. Again, as with the Nativity scenes, this specific visual construction is serving a purpose within the church, one that reflected Fra Angelico’s own deeply devout beliefs and transmitted it to the viewer.

As earlier mentioned, one persistent question since earlier times had been that of the Virgin’s death. Before images of the Assumption took reign, more common was that of ones showing Mary’s peaceful, earthly death. While these were more in the style of narrative form, as the ones before, the Assumptions tended to favor more iconographical, other-worldly imagery. Fra Angelico’s The Death and Assumption of the Virgin (fig 4), painted around 1432, shows somewhat of a bridge between the two ideological sides. The bottom foreground depicts a scene of saints gathered around her dead body, giving an earthly and grounded sense as many works before it on the same subject. However, in the center is Christ holding Mary’s soul as a small infant, drawing us upwards into the main half of the work that depicts the Assumption. This area is opposite the bottom, with fantastical and graphical elements in the background that serve to push forward the narrative of the assumption into a more idealized form. Many other artists followed a similar setup for the Assumption in following years. One of the most major assumption piece’s is Titian’s Assunta, or Assumption of the Virgin (fig 5), painted in 1490 to be an altarpiece in a Venetian church. Like Angelico’s Assumption before it, the bottom is framed by humans on earth, again saints, but in this case they twist and reach up towards the ascending Mary, lifting our gaze directly to her. She stands squarely in the middle, atop a cloud filled with angels, wearing her characteristic blue mantle and red dress and with arms outstretched reaching up to God in heaven. She herself is surrounded by an intense halo of golden light, the light of God, representing the holy spirit and divine wisdom. This work frames her less like the humble mother of before, but instead more like a Goddess, empowered and central in a larger-than-life work full of movement and vitality. Unlike the stiff, Flemish-like folds of the narrative scenes, her robes flow forth like a Hellenistic masterpiece. El Greco (Doménikos Theotokópoulos, 1541-1614) also painted an Assumption on commission, his first major commission since arriving in Spain (fig 6). This too follows the same pictorial setup, placing an upward bound Mary ascending into heaven with open arms, raised from the grave. Later still, Peter Paul Rubens (1577-1640) paints an Assumption of the Virgin Mary (fig 7) in 1626. Though stylistically more representative of the Baroque era, the work retains the key motifs in the work: Mary’s heavenly assumption, the light of god, the border of angels, the people looking on from earth below. Within the throws of the Counter-Reformation, the Catholic church wanted to bring forth awe-inspiring imagery to captivate its viewers. Warner explains this, saying that “Belief in the Assumption extends an idea fundamental to the virgin birth: that time itself belongs to the material world and is alien from the spiritual, from the supernatural. Death, like birth, belongs to time; freedom from death… overcomes it,” (94). While earlier narrative works were more about teaching the gospels and reaffirming faith, these newer works were focused instead on stirring the hearts of any onlookers in order to inspire faith in the Catholic church.

The final works key in the discussion of Mary during this time period are those concerning the dogma of the Immaculate Conception. As mentioned before, after several years of disagreement on the subject, the doctrine started to become more accepted in the 13th century, due largely to efforts on Spain’s part: “both the kings and clergy of Spain together supported the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception. It was this dual support that gave the doctrine its special prominence in Spain and Spanish art,” (Stratton 5). But images of the conception did not widely flourish until around the 17th century. This was largely due to the theological, and not narrative, basis of the subject matter. It was Spanish artists who helped fix this: “In the early seventeenth century the pressure from Spain on the papacy to elevate the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception to the status of dogma would become acute. The movement did not have to invent an emblem; a definitive iconography of the Immaculate Conception had been established, in all its possible permutations, by Spanish artists of the late sixteenth century,” (Stratton 66). The movement gained traction largely with Francisco Pacheco’s (1564 – 1644) painting Immaculate Conception (fig 8). As Pacheco later explains in his Arte de la Pintura, he was inspired by iconographical descriptions in the book of Revelations: “A great sign appeared in heaven: a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet and a crown of twelve stars on her head. She was pregnant and cried out in pain as she was about to give birth,” (Revelation 12:1-2). From this, Pacheco wrote out guidelines about how she should be depicted, and most artists followed suit (246). The paintings all generally follow the image with Mary, central and taking up most of the frame, with 12 stars forming a halo around her head, a crescent moon beneath her feet, hands often together in prayer, gaze cast downwards or off to the distance, blue mantle billowing among the clouds that surround her. Works by Diego Velasquez (1599 – 1660), Rubens, Francisco de Zurbarán (1598 – 1664), and Bartolomé Esteban Murillo (1617 – 1682), all under the same name, follow this same construction (figs 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14). The legacy that followed was one of unparalleled theological pieces of propaganda and devotion. Its consolidation of key Catholic ideas, of divinity and purity, was hugely effective at channeling the pathos of the Counter-Reformation in Spain.

Images based in gospel tended to reflect a more narrative-based set of ideas, expressed largely through pictorial space consisting of physical settings that reflected the context of the events. On the other hand, images that were based more in conjecture and speculation tended to represent themselves in more idealistic and otherworldly spaces that tapped into the pathos of the viewer. The incidence of such works increased significantly during the Counter-Reformation in Spain. The movement was known to use the power of images in their efforts as a way of appealing to people’s emotional side; this emotionality is especially evident under the reign of Philip II in the 17th century. While a nativity scene might reinforce an already devout Catholic’s biblical knowledge and intimate sense of faith, it took something a little more charged to capture the heart of those more in the center. 17th century works such as those of the Immaculate Conception went above and beyond in this venture.

Paintings

(fig 1) Francisco de Osona, The Nativity. c. 1500

(fig 2) Francisco de Osona, The Adoration of the Magi. c. 1500

(fig 3) Fra Angelico, The Annunciation. 1425-26

(fig 4) Fra Angelico, The Death and Assumption of the Virgin. 1432

(fig 5) Titian, Assunta (Assumption of the Virgin). 1490

(fig 6) El Greco, The Assumption of the Virgin. 1577-79

(fig 7) Peter Paul Rubens, Assumption of the Virgin Mary. 1626

(fig 8) Francisco Pacheco, Immaculate Conception. 1621

(fig 9) Diego Velasquez, The Immaculate Conception. 1619

(fig 10) Peter Paul Rubens, Immaculate Conception. 1628-29

(fig 11) Francisco de Zurbarán, Immaculate Conception. 1630

(fig 12) Bartolomé Esteban Murillo, Immaculate Conception. 1650

(fig 13) Bartolomé Esteban Murillo, Immaculate Conception. 1660

(fig 14) Bartolomé Esteban Murillo, Immaculate Conception. 1678

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Gallatin Rationale

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Art Inhabited

Architecture is not only a form of art to be looked at, it is the art we inhabit. As someone with a strong visual design background, the focus for my rationale has turned to an exploration of the way architectural design affects inhabitants. I first wanted to background this with global and historical understandings. My semester abroad in Madrid informed this area heavily. There, my classes centered around art, myth, culture, history, identity, and language. This included my “Art and Social Movements in Spain” course, which investigated the interaction of art and architecture with social change, as well as “Masterpieces in the Prado Museum,” which looked at the mixed cultural history of Spain through the lens of art history. Living in a country with a complicated, multicultural past gave me a new perspective for viewing my home country, the United States. I wanted to know more about social and economic systems, and how they were influenced by art and history.

The subject of identity has arisen repeatedly as I have explored these areas. Existing at both an individual and a group level, identity plays a key role in how we understand ourselves; our past, present, and future. It is informed heavily by culture, which in this case refers to a collection of shared social characteristics and styles. It is true that culture is socially constructed, in that we have a tendency to view groups as bounded wholes with clearly defined characteristics specific to each group. In reality, no culture exists in a vacuum; ideas and styles pass among groups of people, with no real physical borders between them. Still, group behavior does have recognizable patterns, and it is in our nature to operate using patterns as a basis for understanding social existence. Identity is relevant in this way: if by culture we form identity, and by identity we form an idea of ourselves, and it is according to that idea of ourselves that we operate in society, then identity is a key aspect to understanding social existence. Seeing art and architecture as informants of identity, I understand it as a major underlying theme necessary for exploring the topic of art inhabited.

Poetry

1.

the world, with a breath,
lays out, rolls down,
grows bigger, greater than death,
every road and track, every city and town,

radiating out, pulses pass,
i a passenger, ever smaller,
now my breath, just a flash,
the nature of growth, ever taller,

the nature of change, ever new,
the nature of me, the nature of you,
the more i understand, the less i can bear,
the more i feel, what it means to care,

what it means to remember, the past,
same vessel as before, same as now,
the places we lived, first and last
the beat of the future, the forward plow

2.

baby, when i think of you

i think of the sun and the sea

the waves and the color blue

the way they wash and fall over me

like my curls falling down my back

you’re drowning in them too

i think of everything i lack

how i wish i could give it to you

but when the morning light hits your face

i feel im close to home

because your smile occupies the same space

as the sand and the shore and the foam

3.

far above me, a great blue sky stretches wide
veiled vastness that only clouds hope to hide
each corner reaches to meet the earth and sea
where dreams rose to, greatly past, growing free...

far below me, a great blue sea leads away
oh home, oh constant, oh never the same
that stirs in our hearts changes with the tides
the beginning, the end, impossibly wide...

far beyond me, a world is calling our names
returning to earth, returning the same
my breath is scattered in places we sang songs
further, farther along.

Digital Portfolio