When I read art studies in the early 1980s, Francisco de Zurbarán (1598–1664) is only mentioned in a couple of sentences in HW Janson's standard work "Konsten". There, the Spanish Baroque painter is praised for his ascetic, poignant devotional pictures, but at the same time is described slightly belittlingly as a successor to the Italian Caravaggio and a contemporary of "the great Spaniard Velazquez".
In this historiography there is a single image of Zurbarán; "Saint Sérapion" - motivated by its visible influence on David's famous painting "Death of Marat".
Janson is now infamous for having written a single-sex and traditionally angled history of art, but nevertheless succeeds in highlighting Zurbarán's importance as a predecessor. Manet painted a praying monk as a tribute to him in 1865, and the group of admirers was replenished by modernists such as Picasso, Gris and Dali.
Zurbarán has been called both a proto-cubist and a proto-surrealist – and since the end of the 80s, numerous exhibitions and new research on him have caused the cult to grow exponentially. So this summer when the National Gallery in London showed 50 of his paintings, along with 15 works by said admirers, reviewers were delighted. It received top marks with reviews such as "one of the best exhibitions ever", "exquisite" and "unmissable".
I myself am at least as starry-eyed now that the Louvre in Paris has taken over this exhibition, slightly revised.
Here it is clear that Zurbarán developed a very own, refined style. He worked with a dramatic chiaroscuro, cohesive color fields, refined rendering of fabrics and innovative interpretations of biblical stories. Add to that a sense of volume and telling details, sometimes startling. Yes, surreal - in a peculiar mixture of religious mysticism and razor-sharp naturalism. Previously unknown still lifes and portraits also show that he was capable of so much more than "just" painting religious motifs.
The Louvre begins with the classic Christian motif "Veronika's sweatcloth", which hangs at the entrance to both the Zurbarán exhibition and a smaller exposé with contemporary polychrome sculpture.
The parallel presentations will give a context to the "Spanish Golden Age", from the late 16th century until the latter part of the 17th century. The artistic life was nourished by gold and silver shipped from the Spanish colonies on the other side of the Atlantic to Seville in Andalusia, where Zurbarán was active for over three decades.
The city was also a religious center and the Catholic Church demonstrated its power by commissioning church buildings with magnificent Baroque art and lavish altarpieces. Painters and sculptors had an intensive dialogue in joint assignments for both churches and monastic orders.
Zurbarán painted "Veronika's sweat cloth" several times and the curators' idea with this miracle as a starting point is to bring the audience face to face with the artists' biggest challenge of the time: to bring metaphysical dimensions to life in real everyday life with as much precision and realism as possible.
Sure, the sculptures are expressive and colorful but I'm rushing through this part to get more time for Seville's "maestro pintor", the master painter Zurbarán.
In the richly illustrated catalog there is an early version of "Veronika's sweat duct" (owned by the National Museum in Stockholm!), where Jesus' facial features are clearly visible. In Zurbarán's late version at the entrance, the imprint is only subtly hinted at. The white linen cloth, on the other hand, has been depicted by the artist with almost photographic sharpness and with sensual folds.
The same applies to Jesus' hip joint in the first room's monumental crucifixion scene, an almost three-meter high painting from 1627. Zurbarán was then a young man, who grew up in simple conditions as the child of a haberdashery merchant, but with obvious artistic talent.
At this time he was married for the second time, had several children and had just started his career in Seville. But his outstanding skill is already visible in the reproduction of the draped fabric, which shimmers in the spot lighting. The effect becomes extra strong when the background of the cross is jet black and the muscular body is so sculpturally shaped that it seems to stand out from the canvas.
A recurring detail is Zurbarán's signature and sometimes titles on seemingly crumpled notes, an illusory parade number of God's humble servants.
The exhibition is initially chronological. In the first room with early paintings, you can see how he quickly tackled more complex compositions, with large entourages around the canonized Bonaventura and Petrus Nolasco. Zurbarán also excels coloristically with brilliant red, purple, mustard yellow and sky blue fields.
In this hall there is also the fabulous representation of the martyrdom of Saint Serapion in Algiers. He is suspended from a rope with his head thrown to one side and depicted in still light darkness, dressed in a flowing white orderly robe.
Equally subdued is Zurbarán's painting "The Little Lamb", formerly called "Agnus dei", the Lamb of God - the symbol of Jesus Christ and his sacrifice. The lamb has its legs tied, ready for slaughter, and lies motionless on a dark table. But the animal with its curly fur is depicted so virtuosically and realistically that it feels alive.
Already here I am saved. In this lot, one of Zurbarán's many and strange depictions of "the Immaculate Conception" also stands out. Here, a very young Virgin Mary floats in the sky, looking dutifully upwards, with the moon and putti under her feet.
In 1634, Zurbarán was called to the court in Madrid to contribute to the decoration of the new royal palace, a task that his childhood friend, the court painter Diego Vélazques, was probably behind. Here he contributed, among other things, with battle paintings (where Christian warriors defeat Moors) and several works with the Greek hero Hercules' fight with the bull.
But the coolest thing is a newly discovered painting by the artist, a huge head that is 2.5 meters high. A giant with a piercing gaze, dated 1635.
After some time, Zurbarán returned to Seville, artistically enriched by the royal house's art collection. In this lot there are both innovative interpretations of popular motifs such as "The Shepherd's Worship" and "The Annunciation", as well as more unusual motifs such as the circumcision of the baby Jesus. In my eyes, what he succeeds worst in is depicting small children, they resemble plastic dolls - despite the fact that in his third marriage he had six more children.
The second part of the exhibition is more thematically organized, first with isolated figures against dark backgrounds. There are real portraits as well as fictional characters. Zurbarán had a penchant for female saints, whom he dressed in exclusive robes. The saints are at once remarkably present and alien beings. Saint Agatha, for example, carries her severed breasts on a plate, calmly looking at us.
Opposite hangs the portrait of Velazques de Lara, based on a Castilian legend. In Zurbarán's interpretation, the hero wears bizarre armor, with surreal faces on the kneepads, chest and helmet.
At the far end I stop in front of the portrait of Saint Anthony, who gave away all his money and lived as a hermit in the desert.
Here you can notice details such as his crooked toes sticking out from under the white robe. In two places, the edges of the nails shine yellow-white, as if they were struck by a streak of light. Or could it be nail fungus?
That Zurbarán had clients outside the church is evident from the still life section. Several are insanely beautiful in all their simplicity and most lovely is a single rose next to a cup of water. There is also a dish with delicious grapes painted by the son Juan, one of several assistants in the father's studio.
However, Juan died aged only 29, in the terrible plague outbreak that ravaged Seville in 1647–52. The plague is said to have killed at least a quarter of the population, perhaps upwards of half. The epidemic was a killing blow for the city, crushing the prosperity and Zurbarán personally, both as a father and an artist.
When he took up painting again, it is dominated by a softer and more nuanced painterly style, colored to some extent by younger competitor Bartolomé Esteban Murillo, known for his tender depictions of Mary with the Child Jesus. In 1658, Zurbarán moved to Madrid, in search of new assignments. But at the time of his death in 1664, he is said to have been destitute, considered unfashionable and forgotten.
The exhibition's finale deals with Zurbarán's posthumous influence, mainly on artists active in Paris, which was linked to the sacking of Seville by Napoleon's army in the early 1800s. The French king opened a Spanish gallery in the Louvre, where the modernists were particularly drawn to the Spanish master's sculptural painting, stripped-down compositions and mystical moods.
The fact that the exhibition is shown precisely in the Napoleon Hall in the Louvre can be seen as a historical irony. But as an art experience, it is unforgettable.
