17th Century Exhibitions

An unexpected delight.  Going into this exhibition I knew little of Michaelina Wautier’s works but left feeling like I discovered a hidden gem.  Appropriately advertised as a 17th century trailblazer this exhibition gave a worthy insight into a capable and too long neglected artist.  Challenging imposed artistic limitations on female artists, the exhibition celebrates Wautier’s grand history and mythological paintings.

Entering the first room, her impressive Self-portrait seizes your attention.  She appears dignified and self-assured, wholly confident in her craft as she holds a brush and challenges the viewer with her direct gaze.  The Royal Academy’s decision to hang Rubens’ self-portrait nearby wonderfully serves to elevate Wautier as a similarly capable artist.

The one criticism I could offer was the slight disappointment I felt entering the first room and encountering predominantly her brother, Charles Wautier’s, works.  This seemed an unnecessary although undoubtedly unintended challenge of Michaelina’s artistic authority.  Nevertheless, the rest of the exhibition made up for it as her powerful commanding portraits were excellently showcased.   

The Five Senses series particularly captivated me.  Lost for many years until it resurfaced at a 2019 auction and presented here for the first time since its rediscovery, the series masterfully demonstrates Wautier’s ability to viscerally capture reality.  The boy inspecting dirt under his fingernails and the painful cut dripping blood were so realistically portrayed.  Her departure from typical male representations of the senses in which an idealized nude woman smells flowers or seductively touches a wreath illustrates Wautier’s bold imagination and radical break with tradition. 

Of course, the exhibition’s piece de resistance, The Triumph of Bacchus, did not disappoint.  The busy composition and meticulous details kept drawing one’s eye as one continually discovered new things upon closer observation.  Her self-portrait insert illustrates her confidence, cementing herself in the art historical tradition like similar greats, Titian and Velazquez.  This show is not to be missed.  Educative and engrossing, I hope to see more of this overlooked female artist in the future.  The exhibition runs until 21 June.

Zurbarán at The National Gallery of Art presents a long-overdue celebration of an important figure in Spanish religious art.  The first major UK exhibition devoted to Zurbarán, it brings together an impressive selection of works from collections around the world. Spanning four decades of his career, from monumental altarpieces, saint portraits and meditative still lives to somber private commissions, the exhibition demonstrates Zurbaran’s remarkable range and technical skill.

17th century Seville offered rich opportunities for Zurbarán. One of Spain’s wealthiest cities, it had a deeply devout population encouraged by the Catholic Church to commission art as a vehicle for religious devotion. Zurbarán’s combination of intensity, drama, meticulous observation and realism propelled his career. 

The Crucifixion represents his earliest surviving signed and dated work. Christ’s isolated figure against a black background encourages us to consider the painting’s dramatic effect in its original chapel setting, illuminated by candlelight. Its sculptural quality and intense naturalism were so convincing that contemporary viewers reportedly mistook it for an actual sculpture. Zurbarán’s early training in sculpture continued to inform his highly realistic and volumetric modeling throughout his career.  

Zurbarán’s innovative interpretation of religious scenes are particularly compelling. Saint Serration commemorates the saint’s torture and death for his role in freeing Christian captives. Hung in a mortuary chapel, Zurbarán avoids depicting Serration’s violent death instead presenting him as peaceful and dignified. Serration’s swollen forehead and bound hands are the only obvious indication of suffering. Zurbaran conveys the tragedy more subtly through the saint’s clothing. The heavy folds and coarse texture of the white robe appear to weigh upon his body, emphasizing his physical exhaustion. Zurbarán’s masterful rendering of fabric may have been informed by his familiarity with textiles (his merchant father often dealt in cloth). 

Saint Casilda provides another impressive demonstration of Zurbaran’s mastery of fabric. According to legend, when the saint was discovered smuggling bread to Christian prisoners, the loaves hidden in her dress miraculously transformed into roses. Her lavish court attire communicates her noble status while the intricate floral decoration reinforces her religious virtue. Zurbaran’s sumptuous treatment of fabric therefore does more than dazzle the eye, it becomes integral to the narrative. 

Zurbaran was an accomplished storyteller. Despite repeatedly depicting the same subjects throughout his career, (including 15 known Immaculate Conceptions and 12 Crucifixions). he continually found new ways to approach them. In Crucified Christ, he depicts Christ at the height of his suffering, his mouth opened in an anguished cry and rivulets of blood running from his crown of thorns. The weight and volumetric modeling of the loincloth further intensify his physical suffering. Yet it is Zurbaran’s visceral realism and attention to detail that makes the work so compelling. The rough-hewn wooden plinth and dirt beneath Christ’s toenails grounds the image in an unsettling reality.

The exhibition also gives due attention to Zubaran’s comparatively under-appreciated still lives. Although only 10 stills lives by the artist are currently known, he made a significant contribution to the genre. Still Life with Lemons, Oranges and a Rose is the earliest signed and dated still life to have been painted in Seville. Its apparently simple arrangement of everyday objects belies its sophistication. Each carries religious significance, the water and rose, for example, evoke the Virgin Mary’s purity and her role as the vessel through which Christ entered the world. 

The final room focuses on Zurbaran’s later smaller-scale commissions for private devotion. Moving away from the monumental compositions and dramatic contrasts of his earlier work, he adopted softer colors and more delicate brushwork. These intimate paintings focus on quieter, more contemplative religious narratives. Agnus Dei depicts a bound lamb as a metaphor for Christ led to the slaughter. The delicate brushstrokes defining the fleece demonstrate Zurbaran’s characteristic realism, while the hooves projecting over the stone ledge create the illusion that the animal is entering the viewer’s space.

The Veil of Veronica departs from conventional realistic representations, instead presenting Christ’s face as a haunting, indistinct imprint, with hollow eyes and a weary, tilted head. Despite its apparent simplicity, the painting conveys a profound sense of suffering. Even Zubaran’s signature participates in this illusion, positioned in the lower left corner, it appears to project from the surface like a physical piece of paper.

Overall, I found exhibition’s ambitious survey of Zurbaran’s career impressive and rewarding. My main reservation is its limited engagement with the artistic context in which he worked. Velazquez, whom Zurbaran would almost certainly have known through his conventions to the court of Philip IV, and Caravaggio, whose dramatic use of chiaroscuro had a profound influence on painting of the period, loom large in understanding Zurbaran’s visual language. The exhibition would have been strengthened by addressing these influences and Zubaran’s relationship to his artistic contemporaries more directly. Nevertheless, it succeeds in demonstrating why his extraordinary combination of realism, restraint and religious intensity continues to command attention.