#el greco
Audrey Hepburn and Mel Ferrer on the set of “El Greco”, Toledo, Spain, 1964.
I have become accustomed to going up the grand staircase at the Art Institute of Chicago and encountering El Greco. El Greco’s “Assumption of the Blessed Virgin” has been living at the Art Institute for a long time. Now, however, it has been joined by a number of other El Greco works, forming a thoughtful, engaging exhibition that brings together more El Grecos than I have seen in one place before (admittedly, I have not been in the Prado in Madrid, or Toledo, where El Greco lived and worked for so long).
Doménikos Theotokópoulos, who was known for most of his career and to history as “the Greek,” lived from 1541 to 1614. He was originally trained as an icon painter for the Orthodox church (and one of his icon paintings is included in the exhibit). Exposure to Venetian art caused him to change his style and adopt Western art practice. From Italy, he ended up in southern Spain, and gradually gained a career painting both religious subjects and court portraits. There were plenty of other artists at the time whose careers followed similar archs.
The problem is, the narratives of art history come up short when confronted with work as genuinely original as El Greco’s. Yes, I learned about how “Western art” traversed from Renaissance realism to mannerism and the Baroque in the late 16th century. The thing is, if you look at El Greco’s contemporaries (Bernini, Caravaggio, Vermeer, Reubens), they look very different from El Greco. In point of fact, it’s not the subject matter, but the painting style that’s so fascinating. El Greco’s acknowledgement of the painterly aspects of his work is more aligned with art of the late 19th century than it is with art of the 16th and 17th centuries. His elongated and attenuated figures are genuinely odd. Even if you rationalize that they were meant to be seen form below, it doesn’t explain why so many of the figures look stretched.
El Greco is also kind of like the 17th century Margaret Keane, the master of the Big Eyed figure. No other artist of the time was painting faces with these huge, liquid, tear-filled eyes. Yes, the works are uniquely appealing and emotional, but weirdly kitschy, in part because we have have come to associate big-eyed portraits with pop culture and canned emotional effects.
I also love the strange things that hands seem to do in El Greco’s work. Check out this detail from a portrait he did of a Spanish cleric. The middle finger of the guy’s left hand is keeping track of a page in a book. But the shape and shadow of the open book is extremely vaginal, and that middle finger appears to be gently probing or stroking the opening. The sly, sexy smile on the sitter’s face also suggest that there’s something more going on than keeping track of a text.
By the time you get to the works that El Greco created at the end of his life,things are getting pretty crazy. Yes, I could point to works by other Baroque artists that take considerable liberty with human anatomy, but this crowd of naked fabric-bunchers doesn’t make any sense to me at all. You will have to wait for Cezanne or Matisse, painting bathers in the post-Cubist world of the 20th century, before you find human forms this stylized. I am reminded of Leonardo da Vinci’s comment that Michelangelo made muscles look like a bag of rocks. These are sacks of potatoes with genitalia, giant naked Gumbies with their arms raised in supplication.
I also couldn’t help but think of the Austrian writer Thomas Bernhard, who said that the Old Masters were nothing more than “assistant interior decorators to the Catholic rulers of Europe.” There are so many religious paintings here, sometimes in multiple iterations of the same subject, because, hey, the rulers of Spain were holding the line against the Protestant rebellions.They needed over-the-top emotionally intense Catholic art to hang on to their customers. El Greco provided that for them in spades, and did it in a way that radically predicts the fascination with materiality (paint for paint’s sake) that wouldn’t become common practice for another 250 years. Nice work if you can get it.