Blog

Hope and Change: didn’t work out this time, either (Favorites at Washington’s National Gallery, 1)

This is the first in a series of posts on my favorite paintings in the National Gallery in Washington.

Francisco de Goya (Spanish, 1746 - 1828 ), Thérèse Louise de Sureda, c. 1803/1804, oil on canvas, Gift of Mr. and Mrs. P.H.B. Frelinghuysen in memory of her father and mother, Mr. and Mrs. H.O. Havemeyer
Francisco de Goya (Spanish, 1746 – 1828 ), Thérèse Louise de Sureda, c. 1803/1804, oil on canvas. Washington, National Gallery. Gift of Mr. and Mrs. P.H.B. Frelinghuysen in memory of her father and mother, Mr. and Mrs. H.O. Havemeyer

Is she pouting? Is she on the verge of tears? Often I can get a better sense of why I’m reacting to a painting by covering parts of it and seeing how I react to what’s left: but here, I just can’t decide. It’s the uncertainty that makes her so fascinating. Also, I’m particularly fond of the shade of blue that she’s wearing, and it’s nicely set off against that yellow chair that has faint echoes of the blue in its pattern.

And here is Therese’s husband. This is a bittersweet painting for me: a reminder to be careful what you wish for, because you might get it.

Francisco de Goya (Spanish, 1746 - 1828 ), Bartolomé Sureda y Miserol, c. 1803/1804, oil on canvas, Gift of Mr. and Mrs. P.H.B. Frelinghuysen in memory of her father and mother, Mr. and Mrs. H.O. Havemeyer
Francisco de Goya (Spanish, 1746 – 1828 ), Bartolomé Sureda y Miserol, c. 1803/1804, oil on canvas. Washington, National Gallery. Gift of Mr. and Mrs. P.H.B. Frelinghuysen in memory of her father and mother, Mr. and Mrs. H.O. Havemeyer

Bartolomé Sureda y Miserol (1769–1850) is making a statement with his high cravat, orange-lined hat, and tousled hair – all very much in the French fashion. Around 1800, Sureda spent time in France learning how to manufacture porcelain. He and other liberal Spaniards hoped that French Revolutionary ideals and the reforms of Napoleon’s regime would be a model for the overhaul of Spain, which was ruled by absolutist monarchs. But Napoleon was not a proponent of liberté, égalité, fraternité. By 1804 he had crowned himself emperor, and in 1808 his troops invaded Spain. Goya’s Third of May 1808 is a searing record of one brutal death among the tens of thousands of Spaniards who died fighting Napoleon’s troops.

My favorite book on Napoleon is J. Christopher Herold’s The Age of Napoleon, which is brilliant at setting the big picture, and paints Napoleon as an enormously important figure – but not admirable. The second page of the main text quotes Napoleon’s letter to his brother a year in 1792, when Napoleon was 23: “Among so many conflicting ideas and so many different perspectives, the honest man is confused and distressed and the skeptic becomes wicked …. Since one must take sides, one might as well choose the side that is victorious, the side which devastates, loots, and burns. Considering the alternative, it is better to eat than to be eaten.” (pp. 8-9)

What I’ll look for next time

The National Gallery’s site says the Suredas aren’t currently on display: I’m crossing my fingers and hoping that by January, they will be.

While I was poking around on the Net for info on the Suredas, I came across a portrait that’s now in the running to be my all-time favorite by Goya: the Duke of Wellington, at London’s National Gallery. Read about the Duke and the fascinating story of how his portrait may (or may not) have been stolen by a disabled and disgruntled British retiree, and how the painting worked its way into Dr. No’s lair, on Wikipedia.

More

  • Want wonderful art delivered weekly to your inbox? Check out my free Sunday Recommendations list and rewards for recurring support: details here.