It’s one of the most famous paintings in the world, capable of puzzling both scholars and average museum-goers alike. Containing layer upon layer of complexity, it casts a tantalizing spell over the viewer; one must look and assess over and over in order to grasp what might — or might not — be taking place in this playful presentation of appearance and reality. Few works of art can compare to its magnetic allure.
Its name is Las Meninas. The gargantuan sized painting — it’s over three meters tall — is held in the Prado Museum in Madrid, and was painted by one of the greatest artists of all time: Diego Velazquez.
This supremely talented Spanish artist is the subject of BBC’s documentary Velazquez: The Painter’s Painter. Born in 1599, in Seville, Velazquez has been lauded not only by scholars but by a bevy of virtuoso painters. Indeed it was the French Impressionist Manet who gave him such high and almost incomparable praise when he said of Diego Velazquez, “C’est le peintre des peintres.”
So who was this man? What was his life like? And what specifically about his paintings makes him one of the most accomplished and inimitable painters in the history of Western art?
Hosted by Alan Yebtob, The Painter’s Painter answers some of these questions quite well, but gives disappointingly scant answers to others. It succeeds far more at conveying biography and historical context than at offering in-depth critical analysis on Valezquez’s works. On matters of technical ability, influences, and originality, more often than not the explanations offered by Yebtob and others in the film never go much beyond vague or banal musings. But for all that, the documentary provides an engaging look into the life of an artist who is well worth knowing.
Indeed Velazquez has a genuinely interesting story. As a young man he began rising through the ranks of Philip IV’s court in 16th-century Habsburg Spain. Beginning around 1622, and all the way until his death in 1660, nearly the whole of Velazquez’s life was spent either in the court or — during various European travels — carrying out duties and missions for Philip IV. Somewhat surprisingly, his time spent painting the King, his family, and his entourage (time and again), seems not to have stifled his creativity. Indeed some of his masterpieces — like Las Meninas — while still functioning as royal portraits, express ideas and techniques that one might otherwise have thought impossible within the confines of a humdrum scene of courtly life.
Valezquez himself grew up far from the court in Madrid and had not a drop of noble blood in him. Born into a family of modest means in the south of Spain, the exceptionally gifted Velazquez began training with a man named Franceso Pacheco. A Sevillian like himself, Pacheco taught Valezquez as much as he could, despite being only a relatively mediocre artist.
But Pacheco gave him so much more than just lessons of technique. As Yebtob says, “[Pacheco] introduced Velazquez to the rarefied world of connoisseurs.” This gave Velazquez the opportunity to witness gems of all sorts, including precious books and paintings. It also gave him the chance to start forming relationships with patrons.
But the real turning point of Velazquez’s life came in 1622. Now in his early 20’s, he received the opportunity to paint the portrait of the king, Philip IV, who had taken the throne in 1621. The painting was favorably received. So favorably, in fact, that Philip IV decided no other artist but Velazquez was allowed to paint him from life.
Thus began Velazquez’s three and a half decades in the court of the king. It was a career that involved ever increasing participation in the court — from overseeing decorations and palace renovations, to international travel and making purchases for the king, to painting a multitude of both formal and informal portraits of the royal family. Velazquez seems to have done it all. On his second trip to Rome, he even had the privileged opportunity to paint Pope Innocent X, whom Velazquez was particularly inclined to meet, believing that the Pope could help him secure Spanish knighthood — something he desperately wanted. In time Velazquez would receive this honor, but only at the age of 59, and just a year away before his death.
But it’s of course Velazquez’s tremendous facility as a painter for which he is most remembered. He seems to have had a near effortless way of achieving extraordinarily difficult effects on the canvas while making it all seem completely natural. No wonder he was often the envy of other painters during his own time. And now, four centuries later, he still exerts the same effect on artists who gaze admiringly at his absolute brilliance.
Spectatio 