The Prado has a great collection of paintings by Velazquez, with pride of place going to 'Las Meninas' which always has a crowd of people around it. It's in a room in the centre of the first floor surrounded by other royal portraits of Philip IV and his family. Velazquez is one of the greats of Spanish painting and there is a statue to him outside the Prado, sitting while holding his palette and brush, taking a break from whatever painting he was working on at the time. The statue is halfway down the side of the Prado and not as obvious as the statue to Goya which is near the entrance to the museum, so it's in a quieter position which I think is probably the right place for it. I prefer Velazquez to Goya anyway. I've chosen a mere four paintings by Velazquez for this blog - there are loads spread across various rooms but these are my favourites.
The first painting I came close to on my most recent visit to the Prado was 'The Crucified Christ', a life-sized painting, stark in its cruel beauty that almost makes you gasp when you first look at it. It's such a simple composition, a man nailed to a cross with a black background so there's nothing else to look at other than the tortured body of the man. His blood stains the wood he's nailed to. His body isn't idealised at all, the ordinary figure of a 33 year old man only identified by the light halo around his head and crown of thorns.
Reproductions don't capture the sheer power of this painting - you need to see it in the paint to see it's true glory, preferably without a gaggle of school kids chattering and ignoring the painting. It's a very powerful and emotional painting when you stand in front of it. It actually made me want to go and see 'Las Meninas' again, so I did.
'Las Meninas' is one of those iconic paintings that no-one seems to really understand and that's not a bad thing at all. At the centre of the painting is the infanta Margarita, daughter to Philip IV and Mariana of Austria, with a lady in waiting on either side of her, hence the title of the painting - Las Meninas means ladies in waiting. But it's further complicated by Velazquez including himself painting the young princess and there are her parents reflected in the mirror, watching the scene. Paintings by Rubens (Philip IV's favourite painter) line the walls. What is actually going on here? And why is half the painting given over to 'dead space', showing the tops of the walls and the unadorned ceiling? That's a lot of painted canvas not telling a story - or is it?
It's a fascinating painting that poses more questions than it answers. I hope that Margarita had a happy life.
As well as religious paintings and portraits, Velazquez did a lot of paintings about mythological subjects. One of my favourites is 'Vulcan's Forge' from 1630. Just look at the faces and bodies, that is realism.
Apollo appears in Vulcan's forge to tell Vulcan that his wife is being unfaithful and this is the reaction of the god and his assistants. The whole aim of this painting seems to be to show the male torso in different positions. What I admire is that Velazquez resisted the temptation to make the bodies overly muscular and masculine - he's gone for the 'ordinary man who works hard'. I think my favourite is the young man second from the right - look at his face, the realistic portrayal of a man who's just heard something shocking.
I don't know much about Velazquez but I've decided that I like many of his works that I've seen. I need to delve a little deeper and learn more about him.
The first painting I came close to on my most recent visit to the Prado was 'The Crucified Christ', a life-sized painting, stark in its cruel beauty that almost makes you gasp when you first look at it. It's such a simple composition, a man nailed to a cross with a black background so there's nothing else to look at other than the tortured body of the man. His blood stains the wood he's nailed to. His body isn't idealised at all, the ordinary figure of a 33 year old man only identified by the light halo around his head and crown of thorns.
Reproductions don't capture the sheer power of this painting - you need to see it in the paint to see it's true glory, preferably without a gaggle of school kids chattering and ignoring the painting. It's a very powerful and emotional painting when you stand in front of it. It actually made me want to go and see 'Las Meninas' again, so I did.
'Las Meninas' is one of those iconic paintings that no-one seems to really understand and that's not a bad thing at all. At the centre of the painting is the infanta Margarita, daughter to Philip IV and Mariana of Austria, with a lady in waiting on either side of her, hence the title of the painting - Las Meninas means ladies in waiting. But it's further complicated by Velazquez including himself painting the young princess and there are her parents reflected in the mirror, watching the scene. Paintings by Rubens (Philip IV's favourite painter) line the walls. What is actually going on here? And why is half the painting given over to 'dead space', showing the tops of the walls and the unadorned ceiling? That's a lot of painted canvas not telling a story - or is it?
It's a fascinating painting that poses more questions than it answers. I hope that Margarita had a happy life.
As well as religious paintings and portraits, Velazquez did a lot of paintings about mythological subjects. One of my favourites is 'Vulcan's Forge' from 1630. Just look at the faces and bodies, that is realism.
Apollo appears in Vulcan's forge to tell Vulcan that his wife is being unfaithful and this is the reaction of the god and his assistants. The whole aim of this painting seems to be to show the male torso in different positions. What I admire is that Velazquez resisted the temptation to make the bodies overly muscular and masculine - he's gone for the 'ordinary man who works hard'. I think my favourite is the young man second from the right - look at his face, the realistic portrayal of a man who's just heard something shocking.
Another 'ordinary man' painting I like is Velazquez's 'Triumph of Bacchus' that sees the god carousing with ordinary mortals. The god's skin is luminescent but I'm always taken by the face of the bloke next to him looking out at the viewer with a drunken smile. That's a real face, a face with a name that is long lost, but it's that face that makes the painting memorable.
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