After his return to Madrid from Italy, Velázquez used a broader color palette, noticeable in his portraits. In Prince Baltasar Carlos with a dwarf (1631), the prince appears dressed in a Captain General’s uniform adapted to his childhood condition, but including the sash, the flare he carries in his right hand, and the sword. The dwarf carries an apple and a rattle, childish elements that may imply that the heir to the most powerful monarchy in Europe doesn’t need toys but rather military instruction and training to be able to govern his domain in the future. The static position of the prince and the dynamism of the figure of the dwarf make some art historians think that the figure of Baltasar Carlos would be a painting, in front of which his jester turns to contemplate it.
Next come the pair of portraits (pendants) of husband and wife, Don Diego del Corral y Arellano and Doña Antonia de Ipeñarrieta (both 1631-1632). Don Diego del Corral y Arellano appears portrayed in full body on a neutral background, his figure outlined by a slight line of a lighter tone that gives it relief and becomes wider around the head, creating the effect of a halo. He is dressed in black, with a lawyer’s toga, under which the cross of Santiago is almost hidden. He holds documents in his hands, one of them resting on a table covered with a red velvet rug on which his hat rests, all of them objects indicative of his dignity in his profession as Judge (“Oidor“) of the Council of Castile. The iridescent black hues of the judge’s garment is a display of Velázquez’s virtuosity achieved by the use of ample glazes*.
In the portrait of Doña Antonia de Ipeñarrieta y Galdós and her son Don Luis, we see the wife of Diego del Corral y Arellano with their son Luis del Corral y Arellano. The child wears a striped garment with the same fabric hanging from the sleeves like a ribbon, one of which the child himself picks up with his right hand while his mother holds the other. Over his skirt, Luis wears a translucent silk apron and a bell hanging from his belt, and holds a rose in his left hand. Doña Antonia for her part is dressed in black with gold buttons and chains, with a rigid neck collar. She places her left hand on the back of a chair seen from an elevated perspective.
In both portraits of husband and wife, Velázquez maintained the conventions of court portraitists by placing the character very close to the foreground, so that the floor appears to be seen from above while the head is very close to the upper edge of the canvas.
In the portrait of Philip IV in brown and silver (1631-1632), the suit’s silver embroidery was painted with small, quick impastos*. The king is also wearing the Order of the Golden Fleece, hanging from a gold chain.
The portrait of King Philip IV’s wife, Isabel de Borbón (1631-1632) shows particular attention in depicting the queen’s robes, which gave Velázquez a excuse to portray the wealth of nuances produced by the play of light on black fabrics, which he often exaggerated to produce glittering reflections.
Finally, the wonderful portrait of Pablo de Valladolid (ca. 1636-1637), originally painted for the Buen Retiro Palace in Madrid. It is part of the group of portraits of jesters and “men of pleasure” of the court painted by Velázquez to decorate secondary and transit rooms in the royal palaces. Given the informal character of these portraits, Velázquez was able to test new expressive resources with greater freedom than in the official portraits of the royal family, with their fixed iconography.
Pablo (also known as Pablos) de Valladolid was a “man of pleasure”, truhan or “discreet madman” who made court people laugh with his mockery. Pablo, portrayed in full-length and standing, with open legs, is dressed in black, and gathers his cape on his chest with his left hand, while extends his right arm as if making a declamatory gesture. His silhouette is clearly cut out on a neutral background, with no other spatial reference to the point where he rests his feet than the shadow he projects. And that’s precisely Velázquez’s audacity in this portrait: the total suppression of a material background and floor.
In 1865 the French impressionist painter Édouard Manet visited Spain and saw the works of Velázquez in the Prado Museum. Among them he praised this portrait in a letter, of which he said: “Perhaps the most amazing piece of painting that has ever been made is the painting titled Portrait of a Famous Actor in the Time of Philip IV. The background disappears. It is air that surrounds the character, dressed all in black and full of life.” A year after his visit to Spain Manet painted the famous The Fifer (1866), with evident allusions to the portrait of Pablo de Valladolid painted two and a half centuries earlier.
Velázquez also painted some sacred-themed canvases, such as the Crucified Christ (ca. 1632), from the convent of San Plácido, for which he removed the blood and drama so omnipresent in the Spanish baroque treatment of this iconography, and instead focused his interest on the study of a naked Apollonian body silhouetted against a dark background.
We saw that, during his first trip to Italy, Velázquez was able to study the works of the great masters. His studies of the nude based on classical works would have made possible the masterful nude he achieved in this painting. It is a frontal nude, without the support of a narrative scene, allowing the viewer to capture the bodily beauty and serene expression of the figure. On a greenish-gray background, the figure of the crucified Christ appears illuminated from the left. Contrary to the traditional iconography of the scene, Christ’s legs are in a contrapposto classic posture that makes the weight of the body fall on the right leg, his calves almost joined. The white cloth, very reduced, intended to cover the nudity, actually does put the accent on Christ’s naked body. The head has a narrow luminous halo that seems to emanate from the figure itself. The face is fallen on the chest, revealing enough of his features. More than half of the face is covered by long hair that falls straight and vertically.
In the similar, but smaller Christ on the Cross (1631), we see greater pathetic pretensions, which brought him closer to the style of Guido Reni. This painting originally was in the convent of the Bernardas Recoletas del Santísimo Sacramento in Madrid until the end of the Civil War. Christ appears crucified looking at the sky, with his feet resting on the pedestal. Christ’s torso, the cloth of modesty, and his legs are similar to those of the Christ from the convent of San Plácido, with the difference that in this canvas, Christ is still alive, with his arms in tension forming a closed angle which increases the pathos of the work. Here, the cross appears in its entirety, nailed between a group of stones among which lies a skull that tradition attributes to Adam. The cross is placed in front of an urban landscape that evokes Jerusalem. A trilingual sign is attached to the top of the cross.
The Temptation of Saint Thomas Aquinas (1631-1632), a work very close to those by Alonso Cano, represents Saint Thomas Aquinas, still a novice, after overcoming the temptation of a prostitute who appears in the open door in the background and whom he has made flee with a burning log that rests at his feet. The saint is supported by an angel while another prepares to give him a white ribbon that symbolizes chastity.
An important work that foresees similarities between Velázquez Sevillian period and his later Italian style, is Christ contemplated by the Christian soul (1626-1628), a heavy and beautiful nude worthy of the best style of Guercino. The painting also shows influences from Bolognese painting and especially from Guido Reni, as well as of Caravaggio and a pictorial technique close to that used in his Forge of Vulcan, painted in Rome. In this canvas, Velázquez followed the iconographic indications of his father-in-law Francisco Pacheco to represent the theme of ‘Christ collecting his garments’, a repeated iconography in 17th century Spanish painting, but that he combined into an original creation.
In Christ contemplated by the Christian soul, the ropes that Velázquez painted next to the collapsed body of Jesus are, except for the scourge of thorn bush: a bunch of sticks, a strap and a whip. The column of the flagellation appears tall and it’s not depicted showing its full height. The gaze of Christ is directed at the viewer. Jesus’ wounds are concentrated on his back, where they don’t overwhelm the view of the beauty of his body. The Guardian Angel and the child figure that embodies the Christian soul are accompanying Christ after his flagellation. Velázquez presents the three figures silhouetted against a neutral background, strongly contrasted by intense lighting that draws dark shadows on the surface of the ground and gives the figures a powerful three-dimensionality, thus accentuating the emotional character of the scene, which has as a focal point the exchange of glances between Christ, defeated although athletic, and the child, who on his knees and with joined hands leans his fragile body towards Jesus.
But what’s most interesting in this second period in Madrid (from 1631 to 1647) are the portraits, most of which can be grouped into three wonderful series: hunters, horsemen and jesters. The portraits of hunters had a high symbolic significance, since hunting was considered a “living image of war”, as wrote hunter Alonso Martínez de Espinar (ca. 1632-1644), whom Velázquez portrayed, as well as his companion Don Juan Mateos (ca. 1632), even depicting one of his victims in a “solo” canvas, a Deer head (ca. 1626-1628).
In the portrait of Don Juan Mateos, the horse huntsman and main crossbowman of Philip IV is represented in a three-quarter length, dressed in black with gold highlights and a white collar. His hands, only sketched, rest on the handle of a pistol (the right) and on the sword (the left). The figure is silhouetted against a reddish-grayish background, more illuminated in front of the figure. His head, intensely illuminated and slightly turned, looks at the viewer with a penetrating gaze.
By practice hunting, Kings and princes learned to remain cool in danger, to defy inclement weather, to prevent the enemy’s intentions and to choose the moment to defeat the enemy. The courtly aspect of hunting was accentuated by Velázquez in landscapes with small figures (a rare genre in Spain but common in the Netherlands), such as The Royal Fabric (ca. 1636-1638).
Velázquez’s royal portraits of hunters (Philip IV as hunter, Cardinal Infante Don Ferdinand of Austria as hunter, Prince Baltasar Carlos as hunter) combined, with extraordinary skill, the study of light and the natural landscape with the workshop figure (model), giving the illusion that the painting was made in the outdoors, right within the silvery atmosphere of the Madrid mountains. These three portraits were commissioned by King Philip IV, together with a series of paintings of hunting, for the decoration of the hunting lodge in Monte del Pardo, near Madrid. They have something in common: narrow format, the sitter portrayed in three quarter, a shotgun in hand, and hunting garments.
Though they seemed to be painted in the outdoors, in reality, they were all painted in the artist’s studio. Velázquez shows us here that he was endowed with a retinal sensitivity, a visual memory, and a pictorial technique so unusual that make us believe that these portraits could very well have been imagined by the future Impressionists in plain air (‘outdoors’) at the end of the 19th century. The elegant figures of the royal hunters matched that of their dogs, in themselves canine portraits that reveal even the temperament of each animal.
Philip IV as hunter (ca. 1632-1633) is a pendant to the portrait of Cardinal Infante Don Ferdinand of Austria as hunter. Here, thanks to the harmonious range of the garment’s brown colors and the silvery atmosphere that surrounds the austere figure, Velázquez seemed to take pleasure in representing the majesty of the king in the sole and serene posture of Philip, stripped of any other symbol of royalty. Philip IV appears dressed in a brown tabard, with a Flanders lace collar around his neck. He also wears dark breeches and stockings, and his head is covered with a cap. In his right hand he carries a shotgun and at his feet his mastiff dog sits. Immediately behind the king stands an oak tree and in the distance a wide landscape in which the Pardo forests and the blue mountains of Madrid are represented. The sky, gray and cloudy, is typical of an autumn afternoon.
In the second portrait of this series, Cardinal Infante Don Ferdinand of Austria as hunter (ca. 1632-1633), the brother of King Philip IV appears looking directly at the viewer and dressed in a black and silver suit with suede gloves. He holds a shotgun with both hands and at his feet stands his dog, a cinnamon-colored hound.
In the Prince Baltasar Carlos as hunter (1635-1636), the young heir to the crown is dressed in clothing appropriate to this sport despite his young age. He wears a dark tabard with ample sleeves, wide breeches, ornamented gray doublet, lace collar, high boots, cap on one side and in his right hand, a child-size shotgun. In the painting we see two dogs. One of them is large, so much so that Velázquez decided to portray him lying down so that the prince’s small figure would not be overlooked, he has long ears and his head rests on the ground. The other is a little dog that jumps out of the frame, a cinnamon greyhound with bright eyes, whose head reaches the height of the child’s hand. The landscape includes an oak tree standing behind the prince. The Pardo forest and the mountains of Madrid (bluish) are represented in the background. The sky is gray, as if it were an autumn afternoon, heavy with clouds.
At first sight we can criticize the horses painted by Velázquez in his equestrian portraits, because of their apparent enormous bodies, with thin legs and crazy heads, as if they were mistakes by the artist. Fruit of crossbreeding between breeds from the North and South, these horses combined the solidity of the Percherons and the mobility of the Andalusian ponies. Velázquez usually represented them on their hind legs, that is with their front legs raised, when he portrayed a man of authority (like the king, a prince or a minister), and in a pace, majestic and calm, when they’re being ridden by queens. The equestrian portraits of Philip IV, his son Baltasar Carlos and Olivares are among the painter’s most beautiful, along with those of Philip III and his wife Margaret of Austria and that of Queen Elisabeth of France, painted mostly by his workshop, but with retouches by Velázquez, not in the sense of adding, but in that of simplifying. In these portraits, Velázquez included the “third dimension”, that is, the atmosphere. The spatial depth surrounding these horse riders was achieved like never before in this equestrian portraits, who seem to ride through the mountains instead of posing for a portrait artist. The color palette with ochres, greens, browns and grays, with notes of carmine or blue, is exquisite.
Velázquez was commissioned with a series of five equestrian portraits of the royal family that would be destined for the Hall of the Kingdoms in the Buen Retiro palace in Madrid. There hung the paintings of Philip III on horseback and his wife Queen Margaret of Austria on horseback, Philip IV on horseback and his wife Queen Elisabeth of France on horseback, and their son Prince Baltasar Carlos on horseback. This portrait of the prince, being smaller in size than those of his parents, was hung between them over one of the doors of the large room. These equestrian portraits of kings and queens for the Hall of the Kingdoms, whose decoration Velázquez directed, were intended to make of that large space a symbol of the hegemony of the Austrian dynasty. The kings and the prince, on horseback, showed an appearance as bold and victorious generals, while the queens were displayed triumphal as they made their entrances into submissive cities.
In Philip IV on horseback (ca. 1634-1635), the king is represented in profile. He wears half steel armor, with gold decorations and embellishments, suede boots, and a carmine-colored band with its ends floating in the wind. In his right hand he carries the general’s flare and with his left he holds the reins of the steed. The rider’s attitude is natural and elegant, with great poise, sitting on a saddle with rich trimmings, in a posture of nobility. The horse is a chestnut trotter, with long mane and tail. The horse is here in a ‘corvette’, with front legs raised. The figure of the king is portrayed somewhat elevated, in order to paint the landscape in perspective. On the left there’s an oak tree, and in the distance and in depth, a panorama of El Pardo forest in Madrid and beyond, the Guadarrama mountain range. The sky, which occupies almost half of the canvas, with the characteristic blue and grays, is also typical of these type of portraits by Velázquez.
The portrait of Prince Baltasar Carlos on horseback (1634-1635) shows us the heir of the throne at six years old, riding a pony. It was painted with a lower point of view, as it was intended for an elevated place. The prince and the horse were painted in front of the landscape, so that their figures are clearly outlined. This painting offers a brilliance of color far superior to what Velázquez did before. The prince is sitting straight on his saddle, in an attitude of nobility. In his right hand he carries the general’s flare that was granted to him as he was a royal prince. He wears a doublet woven of gold, dark green breeches trimmed with gold, suede boots, and a black hat with a feather. The most notable thing about the child’s figure is the head, an extraordinary portrait that indicates Velázquez’s skills in this genre. The prince’s pale face and blonde hair contrast with the matte black of his hat.
At first sight, it seems that the horse has a large and disproportionate belly if seen from a short distance, but this was not a mistake from the artist as this portrait was painted with an altered perspective to correct for the place where it was going to be hanged, high above a door. The horse is presented in a 3/4 ‘corvette’, so that the viewer can easily see the head of the small rider. He has long tail and mane that moves in the wind. Here we notice the classic landscape and sky achieved by Velázquez: the Pardo forest and the Sierra de Guadarrama in the background.
Gaspar de Guzmán, count-duke of Olivares, on horseback (ca. 1636) powerfully portrays Gaspar de Guzmán, an influential Spanish nobleman and politician, loyal subject of the king. The count-duke looks at the viewer, making sure that he/she witnesses his feat. The figure is seen from a low point of view and his torso is turned backwards, making him appear more slender; Olivares was heavy and rather clumsy, as seen in the portraits that Velázquez had made of him. The horse raises its front legs and looks towards the battlefield, tracing a diagonal with respect to the hills seen in the distance, a composition that provides dynamism to the portrait and that is reminiscent with some works by Peter Paul Rubens. On the other hand, the rich chromaticism and light treatment give the scene great vitality.
Olivares wears a wide-brimmed feathered hat and the sash of the State. In his hand he holds a marshal’s staff with which he marks the direction of the battle. The battle seen in the distance was painted with small spots of paint. The landscape is very schematic, since Velázquez did not define buildings or characters. Perhaps this is because Velázquez didn’t know the town of Fuenterrabía, where the battle described took place, although some scholars believe that he didn’t allude to any specific battle. The hills fade into green and blue tones, providing a feeling of distance giving a sense of pronounced aerial perspective.
The following three equestrian portraits, also destined for the Hall of the Kingdoms, had extensive participation of Velázquez’s workshop with final retouches by the master.
The portrait of Philip III on horseback (ca. 1634-1635) shows king Philip III arrogantly on a horse in a ‘corvette’, wearing a giant pearl in his hat. The figure is silhouetted against a background of mountains and cloudy skies that accentuate the sensation of depth. This portrait seems to have been influenced by the portrait of Charles V in Mühlberg by Tiziano.
The portrait of Queen Margaret of Austria on horseback (1634-1635) was also painted by Velázquez with extensive participation from his workshop. The queen wears an ornate dress highlighting two famous jewels that belonged to the Austrias: a large pearl (also worn by her husband in his equestrian portrait as described before) and a large square diamond. The horse, contrary to the equestrian portraits of men, is presented at a pace, and is looking to the left with the intention that the painting maintains symmetry with that of her husband who looks to the right.
The portrait of Queen Elisabeth of France on horseback (1634-1635) was painted by Velázquez with extensive participation from his workshop. The queen is represented in profile wearing a doublet with embroidered stars and a skirt embroidered in gold with her coat of arms and initials. The horse, in a pace, has a long mane that falls over its head, it looks to the left with the intention that the work would maintain symmetry with the equestrian portrait of her husband, king Philip IV, who looks to the right.
Along with these equestrian portraits, there were a series of large paintings of then contemporary history that represented triumphal episodes of the Austrian dynasty’s incessant wars, like The Surrender of Breda (1634-1635), one of Velázquez most famous works, nicknamed The Lances after those of the Spaniard soldiers that appear in the background, on the right, contributing to creating an amazing atmospheric illusion.
At the end of the 16th century and the beginning of the 17th, the Netherlands (led by William of Orange) was immersed in the Eighty Years’ War, and fighting for independence from Spain. In 1590, with Maurice of Nassau-Orange (William’s fourth son) as Stadtholder of the United Provinces of the Netherlands, the Dutch took the city of Breda. The country remained in peace between 1609 and 1621. When King Philip IV of Spain came to the throne in 1621, the truce expired and the war resumed. Philip IV’s intention was to recover that important place, from which he could pursuit other conquests.
In The Surrender of Breda, Velázquez, who was never in the Netherlands, must have taken inspiration for this landscape from an engraving, or perhaps from a painting on the same subject, but he came up with inventing an astonishing “reality” of mists and smoke as a backdrop for the main action. We see a second plane, with soldiers parading and looking somewhat blue from the distance, and a first plane, with the scene of the surrender, the embrace of the victorious Ambrosio de Spinola to the defeated governor of Breda, Justino de Nassau, who tries to kneel when surrendering the square’s keys, while courteous Spinola prevents him to do so. This corresponds exactly to the scene from a comedy by Calderón de la Barca entitled “The Siege of Breda”, from around 1625, which Velázquez undoubtedly knew.
The Surrender of Breda was also painted, along with 11 others, for the decoration of the Hall of the Kingdoms. The Hall of the Kingdoms was the most important room in the Palacio del Buen Retiro, as it was where Philip IV received the ambassadors and other foreign authorities. In order to impress them with an image of warlike and economic power, the Count-Duke of Olivares decided to decorate this large hall with images of Spain’s main military successes. Olivares devised this stratagem to hide the fact that Spain was really beginning to decline as a world power. Velázquez developed the Surrender without vainglory or blood. The two protagonists are in the center of the scene and seem to converse more like friends than enemies. Justino de Nassau appears with the keys to Breda in his hand and makes an attempt to kneel, which is prevented by his opponent, who puts a hand on his shoulder and prevents him from humiliating himself. In this sense, it is a break with the traditional representation of the military hero, who used to be represented standing over the defeated, humiliating them. Likewise, it moves away from the hieraticism that dominated the battle paintings at the time. Velázquez realistically represented General Spinola, whom he knew personally, as they had traveled together to Italy in 1629. A very interesting detail is the number of spears on one side and the other (considerably less in the Dutch side, much more in the Spanish side). Similar realism and individual characterization can be seen in the soldiers’ faces, which are treated as portraits. Details such as the large number of Spanish lances compared to those of the Netherlands and Spain’s reception of the defeated were introduced at Olivares’ request to demonstrate Spain’s own strength and nobility. The man at the extreme right of the canvas wearing a large gray hat with a feather and looking directly at the viewer, is a self-portrait of Velázquez.
The Surrender shows deep compositional meditation and careful execution. Velázquez’s technique adapted to each of the objects represented, and the painting is sparkling and drawn with small brushstrokes in feathers and gold, matte in the suede, rich and pasty in the fabrics, vague and light in the backgrounds. The two opposing groups of Dutch and Spanish constitute a collection of portraits (real or imaginary) that range from identifiable captains to brave men and soldiers with bizarre sideburns and mustaches. Begun in 1634 and completed the following year, this painting constitutes the apotheosis of Spanish history painting and the most palpable demonstration of the compositional and inventive ingenuity of an artist whom many compare to a photographic lens, two centuries before the invention of photography. But Velázquez had much more innovation to offer: already in his time, connoisseurs appreciated Velázquez’s scattered brushstrokes and “unfinished manner” as his greatest beauty. His way of working gives us an idea of the numerous “pentimenti” (that is, parts not corrected, but covered with paint to be painted over again) that have been discovered in many of his works, especially in canvases executed during his first two Madrid periods.
The third and more memorable series of paintings executed at this time are the portraits of jesters, dwarfs and “men of pleasure”. Portraying these members of the Alcázar was not, on the part of Velázquez, an extravagance. Other previous painters, Moro, Sánchez-Coello, Pantoja, Villandrando, had painted portraits of these members of the palace, as Carreño and Herrera el Mozo did after the time of Velázquez. But, with his brushes, Velázquez covered them in such a way with prestige, with the same calm respect with which he painted princes, that he made of them true monuments of humanity, without correcting his deformities at all, as some other artists in fact did. Due to their informal nature, in this group of portraits of jesters and “men of pleasure” Velázquez was able to test new expressive resources with greater freedom than in the official portraits of the royal family. Let’s enumerate some of them.
Jester Don Diego de Acedo (ca. 1636-1645) was not exactly a jester but rather a palace official, in charge of the stamp with the facsimile of the royal signature. Velázquez here portrayed him with his writing tools. The sitter is surrounded by a sober range of blacks, whites and silver grays in a cold atmosphere. The background landscape (the Sierra de Guadarrama), completely lacks the blue pigments of azurite or lapis lazuli. The contrast between the silhouette of Don Diego, completely dressed in black, and the white paper of the thick folio, whose heavy pages his little hands can barely handle, accentuates that somewhat sad air that seems to surround the figure. The low point of view of the painting is because it was to be hanged over a door.
The Portrait of Sebastián de Morra (ca. 1645) represents a court dwarf that served in Flanders to the cardinal-infante Don Fernando of Austria (brother of Philip IV) until his death. In 1643 he arrived in Madrid, where Philip IV placed him at the service of Prince Baltasar Carlos. The portrait was painted by Velázquez directly, without a preliminary drawing and without applying significant changes to its composition. The portrait was conceived in an interior and the sitter appears cut out against a grayish brown background. This neutral background emphasizes the light by creating a luminous halo around the figure. Sebastián’s face and hands were painted quickly and briefly, creating the impression of blurred brushstrokes. His garment is green with a mix of black, and the bright and delicate gold and carmine cape enlivens the otherwise dark canvas, though still gives us the impression of melancholic depth. This original composition, the pose of the sitter and his attitude, was revisited in the 20th century by surrealist artist Salvador Dalí in his work Velázquez Dying behind the Window on the Left Side out of Which a Spoon Projects (1982).
In the Portrait of Francisco Lezcano (1634, also known as “el Niño de Vallecas” as it was called at the end of the 18th century), the figure sits on a rock, with his right leg extended in a foreshortening towards the viewer. He either holds or plays with some playing cards in his hands, symbol of idleness, and wears an untidy green hunting tabard with a wrinkled shirt showing only on one side at the neckline. The sitter raises his head to look at the viewer but weakly moves to the right, underlining with this instability the emptiness of his gaze. Francisco seems to be sitting in a cave or shelter (perhaps a thick tree trunk), with a landscape similar to that of the equestrian portrait of Prince Baltasar Carlos we detailed earlier. This canvas was painted directly and quickly, with some blurred brushstroke effects more noticeable on the head and hands.
In the 20th century, the Colombian artist Fernando Botero made 11 versions of this Portrait of Francisco Lezcano where he demonstrated novel reinterpretations on the theme. He used various types of brushstrokes, some free (almost impressionistic) and others short, and a varied range of color.
The sitter in The Jester Calabacillas (ca. 1637-1639) was identified thanks to the pumpkin (“calabaza” in Spanish) on his left. Juan Calabazas, also called Calabacillas was a jester of excellent reputation. The jester, with a cross-eyed look, appears sitting in a difficult position on some low stones, with his legs crossed and rubbing his hands. He wears a green cloth suit. In front it has a glass or small barrel of wine and on the sides a pumpkin, painted over what was a jug with handle, and to the left a golden canteen that has frequently been interpreted as a second pumpkin. The sitter’s strongly realistic gesture affirms his character as a true portrait, showing us some type of intellectual disability that was carefully analyzed by Velázquez, who contrasts the casual gesture of the pose and the hollow smile with the isolation in which the sitter finds himself, reinforced by the almost autistic gesture of his hands and his refuge in a corner of an apparently empty room.
In other portrait of The Jester Calabacillas (ca. 1626-1632), we see the same, though younger, sitter portrayed in full body and dressed in black satin velvet, with a marked strabismus and unstable legs. He carries in his left hand a paper pinwheel, a symbol of madness, and with a goofy smile he shows the viewer what he holds with his right hand, a small female portrait in an oval frame. He is portrayed in a palatial interior, in front of a pilaster on the left, with a chair with a leather seat as the only furniture.
Other notable paintings from this period include the portrait of Philip IV in Fraga (1644), a canvas in which Velázquez worked at the same time that he executed the aforementioned Portrait of Sebastián de Morra. Here, Velázquez did an exercise in virtuosity in the execution of the silver embroidery on the pink garment as well as in the sparkles produced by the reflection of light on the silky fabric of the sleeves, all this in open contrast with the smooth finish of the face.
The needlewoman (ca. 1635-1643), an unfinished painting, may portray the painter’s wife, Juana Pacheco, or his daughter Francisca. The painting shows a half-figure of a young woman, in a slightly tilted position, with a wide neckline and a scarf on her shoulders, with her head foreshortened, concentrating on her sewing work. Some white touches around her neck, intended to draw a necklace, seem to indicate that she is not a worker, but rather a lady of a certain social position. Her hair in a bun tied up with a red ribbon gives a touch of light color to the dominant grayish greens, browns and whites. Her hands appear painted quickly, reduced to the essentials.
Aesop (ca. 1639-1641) depicts the Greek fable-teller, as shown on a sign in the painting’s upper right corner. He looks directly at the viewer holding a book in his right hand and dressed in a brown tunic tied at the waist with a white cloth. The austerity with which Velázquez represented the philosopher stands out in the painting, and at the same time enhances his personality. This painting was aimed to decorate a hunting lodge built on Monte del Pardo, near Madrid, called “La Torre de la Parada“. This pavilion later became a valuable museum of paintings that also included the vast series of Ovid’s Metamorphoses, painted by Rubens and his assistants for the same space.
Mars resting (ca. 1639-1641) was also painted to decorate a hunting lodge built on Monte del Pardo, near Madrid, called “La Torre de la Parada“. The figure represented is Mars, the god of war but also of Spring, because the war season begins at the end of winter. Velázquez though, shows us Mars as an almost ridiculous-looking figure represented in a melancholic attitude, with a hint of irony. The motif could represent the end of Mars’ love with Venus, due to the god’s face of resignation and sadness. Vulcan, Venus’ husband, upon being informed of the love between his wife and Mars, which Velázquez depicted before in The forge of Vulcan, wove an iron mesh to surprise the lovers, so that the other Olympian gods would contemplate the deception. In this canvas, all this has happened and Mars, stunned and defeated, seems to reflect on it. Behind the figure we see a white sheet from the bed where the lovers were surprised. Mars is depicted nude, except for a blue cloth that surrounds his hips, a red cloak on which he is sitting, and the helmet he wears. Mars also sports a mustache characteristic of the soldiers of the Spanish Tercios, the infantry units typical of the time of the House of Austria. The mustache and the fact that he’s resting his head on his left hand accentuates his melancholy. On the nude there are certain reminisces of the art by Rubens, for example in the reddish and shiny flesh and in the mature musculature. His right hand, hidden under the cloak, has a wooden mace or flare. At his feet lay a tournament shield, a contemporary sword, and a piece of armor.
For his interpretation of Mars, Velázquez was inspired in models both taken from classical antiquity —the Ares Ludovisi—, and from Michelangelo —a sculpture of Lorenzo de’ Medici, for the new Sacristy of the Basilica of San Lorenzo in Florence—reinterpreted in a satirical or ironic way, showing the mythological god on a human scale. The figure of Mars was painted with spots of color applied insistently to highlight the modeling and morbidity of the flesh, with which Velázquez obtained vibrating effects. At first view, the painting is seen from left to right. The light source coincides with the viewer’s point of view, highlighting the nude body, the dark background on the right thus force us to return our view to the left, panning the whole painting again. It makes us to see the painting in a pendular way, a device Velázquez used in his composition.
In 1644, Queen Elisabeth of France (wife of Philip IV) and his father-in-law and teacher, Francisco Pacheco, died. Pope Urban VIII Barberini, a great protector of the arts, although little friend of the Spanish, also died in Rome. He was succeeded by Innocent X Pamphili, of whom Velázquez would paint an admirable portrait as we will see. Prince Baltasar Carlos, hope of the Spanish monarchy, also died in Zaragoza at the age of 16, in 1646. To ensure the succession, Philip IV married again, this time with Doña Mariana of Austria, his deceased son’s bride-to-be, who triumphantly entered Madrid in 1650.
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*Glaze: (painting technique). A thin transparent or semi-transparent layer on a painting which modifies the appearance of the underlying paint layer. Glazes can change the chroma, hue, texture and value of a painting’s surface.
*Impasto: (painting technique). A technique where paint is laid on an area of the surface thickly, usually thick enough that the brush or painting-knife strokes are visible. Paint can also be mixed right on the canvas. When dry, impasto provides texture; the paint appears to be coming out of the canvas, as a relief.
The Artistic Adventure of Mankind 