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mercoledì 16 novembre 2016

'On Art and Painting. Vicente Carducho and Baroque Spain'. Edited by Jean Andrews, Jeremy Roe and Oliver Noble Wood


Review by Giovanni Mazzaferro
Translation by Francesco Mazzaferro

On Art and Painting
Vicente Carducho and Baroque Spain
Edited by Jean Andrews, Jeremy Roe and Oliver Noble Wood


Cardiff, University of Wales Press, 2016


Vicente Carducho, Self-portrait,  about 1633-1638, Glasgow, Pollok House
Source: Wikimedia Commons
Here is the text of the back cover:

This book is a collection of thirteen essays on the Dialogues on Painting, published by the Florentine-born Spanish painter and art theorist Vicente Carducho (1568-1638) in 1633. The first treatise of note in Spanish on the art of painting, it was written as part of a campaign led by Carducho in collaboration with other prominent painters working in Madrid, to raise the status of the artist from artisan to liberal artist. The treatise provides an overview of the melding of Italian Renaissance art theory and Madrilenian practice in the baroque era. It also offers first-hand insight into collecting in Madrid during this crucial period in the rapid expansion of the capital city. The present collection of essays by art historians and hispanists from the UK, Spain, Germany and the US examines each of the dialogues in detail, furnishing an account of Carducho’s campaign to establish a painting academy and to professionalise the office of the painter; detailing the publication history of the treatise and the interrelationship between painting and poetry; and it cites Carducho’s own painting in relation to the Italian and Spanish traditions within which he operated”.

To be accurate, the essays in question are:
  • Jeremy Roe, Preface;
  • Jeremy Lawrance, Carducho and the Spanish Literary Baroque;
  • Javier Portús Pérez, Painting and Poetry in Diálogos de la Pintura;
  • Colin Thompson, Carducho, the conceptista;
  • Marta Cacho Casal, Observations on Readership and Circulation;
  • Juan José Pérez Preciado, Art Aficionados at Court;
  • Juan Luis González García, Carducho and Sacred Oratory;
  • Marta Bustillo, Carducho and Ideas about Religious Art;
  • Jean Andrews, Carducho's Late Holy Families and Decorum;
  • Macarena Moralejo Ortega, Zuccari and the Carduchos;
  • Rebecca J. Long, Italian Training at the Spanish Court;
  • Zahira Veliz, Carducho and the Eloquence of Drawing;
  • Karin Hellwig, The Paragone between Painting and Sculpture;
  • Jeremy Roe, Carducho and pintura de borrones.



Frontispiece of  the Diálogos de la Pintura
Source: Wikimedia Commons


Carducho and the problem of the Baroque

The aim of the book (which, it must indeed be said, is one of the very few English texts to propose a thorough evaluation of the Spanish treatises) is to pursue the "rehabilitation" of the figure of Vicente Carducho. That recovery had already begun with the (unfortunately today out of the market) critical edition of his Diálogos by Francisco Calvo Serraller in 1979, and had been continued with the anthology Teoría de la Pintura del Siglo de Oro (Theory of Painting of the Golden Age), also published by Calvo Serraller in 1981. The main purpose is to counter the idea that Carducho’s treatise was the writing of a late Florentine Mannerist transplanted in Spain, and as such an 'out of context' work, both geographically and (especially) in chronological terms. There is no doubt that this way of understanding the writing of Carducho is now decidedly supported by a minority of scholars. It is certainly true that many of the contents present in the Dialogues were borrowed from the Florentine world: Vincenzo Carducci (aka as Vicente Carducho) was born in Florence, and had moved to Spain at nine years, together with his brother Bartolomeo, Federico Zuccari’s assistant. While Zuccari had gone back to Italy after some time spent in Spain, Bartolomeo, pretty older than Vicente, had remained in Madrid, where he had made a distinguished career, which was abruptly interrupted due to a premature death. At least three essays in the volume (those of Macarena Moralejo Ortega, Rebecca J. Long and Zahira Veliz) are specifically dedicated to the Italian influences in the formation and in the thought of Vicente. There are aspects such as the importance of "drawing" as the parent discipline of painting, sculpture and architecture, or such as the effort to create an Academy (I would like to signal a small typo: the back cover refers of an Academy of Painting, but Carducho actually wanted an Academy of Drawing, such as the Florentine one of which was proud to be a member), or finally such as the distinction (albeit with differences) between interior and exterior drawing already exposed by Federico Zuccari, which are clearly references to the Italian reality of the late sixteenth century. However, what the editors want to refute is the idea that the Dialogues were anachronistic because they did not reflect in any way the Spanish art world and in particular that "naturalness" of which Velázquez was a champion. In essence, it would not be a baroque, but a mannerist writing. And here a much wider discourse needs to be tackled (which in the book is only taken as implicit, but seems to me appropriate to recall). What is being questioned is a historical-critical pattern according to which the Baroque would be a flat, monothematic and totalizing phenomenon. The Baroque, in essence, would be identified in Velázquez and in the other great Spanish painters of the Golden Age. While, in reality, it is evident that the term Baroque, both for Calvo Serraller as well as for the editors of this edition, assumes (more than anything else) a chronological notation and becomes the manifestation of a much more varied and multifaceted civilization, in which the ways of painting can be very different from each other. It is no coincidence, moreover, that today in Italy we speak with the same ease (and I think correctly) about Annibale Carracci, Caravaggio, Bernini and Carlo Maratti (to consider only a few names) as all being Baroque artists.

If you assume the term Baroque with a chronological connotation (which, mind you, is anything but diminutive, but rather recognizes the complexity of a world), it is clear that the problem of Carducho’s treatise is whether it reflected the times in which the artist lived, what were the goals that he pursued at the time it was drafted, and if it were an extemporary and isolated work, or one to be seen within a broader and richer context. And the answer is easy: there were few works that reflected their era in a so clear manner as the Diálogos de la Pintura.

Vicente Carducho, Allegory of the Holy Guardian Angel, Hermitage of the Holy Guardian Angel at Cigarral (Toledo)
Source: David Blázquez via Wikimedia Commons

The Academy of Drawing

As the first argument in this regard we should, of course, mention the fact that the Diálogos advocated the creation of the Academy of Drawing (see, in particular on those aspects, the initial text by Jeremy Lawrance). While the primacy of drawing was obviously a topos of Florentine derivation, also much inspired by Vasari, the project of a Spanish Academy of Drawing saw Carducho in the forefront, but was also the expression of a need felt by the entirety of the Spanish artistic world (which, however, emerged only in the early years of the seventeenth century, in contrast to what happened in Italy): the question of the nobility of painting and the subsequent painters’ claim to be treated as liberal artists and not as mere artisans, and therefore not to be subject to taxation provided by the tax administration of the Spanish kingdom. It is clear that the two aspects went hand in hand: on the one hand the tax claim (which led to a series of legal disputes known to us only in part [1]), on the other hand the 'ethical' claim (that is, to see the recognition of the artist's role as a creator of original works), which was to be implemented precisely through the inauguration of the Academy of Drawing. We already know that an attempt to open a structure was done by some painters in 1606 (and Carducho was one of those who paid the rental costs for the premises); it is believed that most likely Carducho was the drafter (in 1619) of a Memorial de los pintores de la corte a Felipe III sobre la creación de una Academia o escuela de dibujo (Note of the painters of the court of Felipe III on the creation of an Academy or school of drawing), but one thing is certain: in the final part of the Diálogos, the Tuscan-Spanish artist displayed the writings of some members of the Spanish literary world in support of the arguments for the exemption of the artists from the payment of taxes as "liberal professionals". These opinions were dated 1629 and grouped under the title of Memorial informatorio por los pintores en el pleito… sobre la exempción del arte de la pintura. (Information note for the painters in front of courts... on the exemption of the painting art). Carducho said that he added them at the last moment (in late 1633), following the victory of the painters in their lawsuit [2].

There is a question that must be answered: to set up an academy was an inspiration of all Spanish artists, or just of a part of them? Jeremy Lawrance does not fail to address the problem in some very dense lines that recall a passage of the dialogue between the Master and his Disciple (the treaty was structured as a series of dialogues precisely between two subjects, a teacher and a student, who was certainly not a shop assistant, but could at most be identified with a young member of the Spanish nobility): “Behind it lays the attempt by Carducho and a group of his peers to interest Olivares [note of the editor: the Count Duke of Olivares (1587-1645) was at the time the most important figure at the royal court] in becoming patron of a royal academy of drawing […]. Carducho seems to have been the prime mover behind a project (arbitrio) on the matter to Philip III, and then, under Philip IV, for its resubmission to the Cortes of 1624-9, for Dicípulo is made to relate this last initiative in Diálogos  […]. To his [Dicípulo’s] question, ‘How did it all end?’, Maestro replies: ‘It was shelved then, owing to certain problems, not from […] its supporters but from private opinions and decisions of the craftsmen themselves’; but he expresses the hope that ‘one day this honourable proposal be revived’. We may deduce that one motive behind Carducho’s dedication of his book to the king was to keep the plan alive […]. What is really represented, observes Brown […] was an ‘audacious’, ‘imperialistic’ attempt by a clique of artists connected to the court – naturalised Italians, pintores del rey) to monopolise the lucrative market in Church and royal commissions by preventing the seventy-five painters resident in Madrid […] from competing for such work without first paying them for licenses. The plan’s ‘shelving’ at the hands of ‘the craftsmen themselves (los mismos de la facultad)’ meant ‘the guild had defeated the academy, the rank-and-file of painters had revolted against the pretensions of the elite” (p. 30). The nobility of painting was undoubtedly a good idea - certainly - but, behind the mask, the treatise also revealed the (perfectly understandable) cynicism of the writer; in any case, it proves to be a highly topical text, because it testifies to the struggle for important commissions between different factions of artists.

Vicente Carducho, Vision of Saint Francis of Assisi, Budapest. Museum of Fine Arts
Source: Wikimedia Commons

The 'truth' according to Carducho

One of the most important theoretical aspects in the Diálogos were his statements about the 'truth'. In essence, the artist said that there is nothing more deceptive in nature than the reality as we can view it, “more contrary to verity than verisimilitude”. Here comes directly the question of the imitation of nature. According to Carducho, reality can only be represented correctly if the painter, properly prepared on the issue, is able to interpret it with the help of "science", where the term "science" - as Lawrance rightly writes at page 21 - means exactly the opposite of what we believe to be today, and is identified with religious faith. The reality must be, in short, reinterpreted ideally, with the dignity that befits it. Now, we can discuss on it for hours, but this is, in fact, the thrust of Bellori’s Idea della pittura (Idea of painting). No one here means that Carducho preceded Bellori almost by forty years (remember Bellori's Lives were published in 1672), but simply that there was a common view of the reinterpretation of natural evidences, based on theories all deriving from Counterreformation. The ideas resulting from the Council of Trent, particularly exposed by Paleotti in his 1582 Discorso intorno alle immagini sacre e profane (Discourse on Sacred and Profane Images), were largely repeated and revisited in an even more rigid way in Catholic Spain. Also from this point of view, Carducho proved perfectly aligned with a world where religion pervaded all of society (see about it the essays by Juan Luis González García, Marta Bustillo and Jean Andrews). The direct consequence of this way of thinking was the art as catechetical tool: we are, in fact, and once again, confronted with the concept of painting as the Bible of the poor. From here derived the need for decorum, for the involvement of the faithful, and for simplicity in order to understand the represented story: these are all factors which are typical of those years and certainly not (or, at least, not to this extent) of the late-sixteenth-century Mannerism.

Vicente Carducho, Fire of Carthusians' convent in Prague and their persecution,
1626-1632,  Cloister of El Paular
Source: http://www.gabitos.com/museodelpradomadrid/template.php?nm=1329328103

Caravaggio

The discourse on the "decorum" (and hence on the reality reinterpreted in the light of the "science" or religious faith, if you prefer) leads inevitably to address the issue of the opinion expressed by Carducho (in the sixth dialogue) on Caravaggio. It is often said that this judgment was totally negative. It is undeniable that Vicente defined Michelangelo Merisi as the Antichrist and the Anti-Michelangelo; this aspect was associated with an alleged aversion by Carducho against not only Caravaggio, but, more generally, any naturalism, including Velázquez. In fact, the matter was much more complex. In the same lines, along with the aforementioned words (that find their raison d'être in the fact that Caravaggio did not draw before painting and, above all, was much too much focused on the "external" imitation, i.e. without resorting to "decorum") Carducho still defined the artist as a "monster of genius", who painted "without precepts, without doctrine, without study, but only with the power of his genius". There was, therefore, a form of respect towards Caravaggio; the realization that, despite being the Antichrist, this artist managed to get where he was thanks to his incredible genius. If anything, his criticism was directed towards the followers, which, although lacking the same strength, believed they could paint the same way, without study and teaching, but with much more miserable the results. Some people felt that, talking in those terms, Carducho had in mind that part of Madrid artists who did not belong to his entourage and who he intended to put in a secondary position with the creation of the Academy. I do not know if this was the case, but as Jeremy Roe clarifies since the Preface, there was a clear attempt to integrate the genius of Caravaggio within a disciplined system. "Indeed, Carducho’s paintings stand testimony to the ‘modernity’ of his art in this regard, with impressive essays in tenebrism, still life and theatricality" (p. 10). Once again, it is evident a very similar approach to the one used by Bellori in his Lives to speak on Caravaggio: a negative judgment, but clearly revealing not only an understanding of the greatness of his art, but also an attempt to reduce its subversive potential within a system of academic rules.

Vicente Carducho, Saint Catherin of Alexandria, Madrid, Prado Museum
Source: Wikimedia Commons


The Diálogos as a collective literary work

Obviously, it is impossible to consider all ideas offered by the work. I think, however, it is worth dwelling on two typically much undervalued aspects. First, a certain quantitative factor should be kept in mind: taking into account the poems that concluded every dialogue, and when you consider that the final part of the work consisted of the Memorial, which faithfully reproduced the writings of others on the nobility of painting, one gets to the conclusion that the Diálogos were written by fifteen different people, and that one-third of it are not the result of Carducho’s pen (cfr. Lawrance p. 40). We are facing, therefore, a collective work, i.e. the expression of a society that included writers, artists, and scholars. A totally new fact, at least to this extent. Just the literary dimension of this work was culpably neglected by critics and instead it reveals to be its characteristic specificity. Javier Portús Pérez writes, despite having a clearly didactic intent, in contrast with drawing manuals, architectural treatises or iconographic compilations, "Diálogos is not a work that artists could put to any practical use beyond acquiring a historical and theoretical knowledge of their discipline and thus developing their creative awareness" (pp. 72-73). It is evident that the target public of the treatise was of a high level: it was the audience of scholars and the educated nobility. Perhaps a less cultivated audience too, but still dedicated to collecting (to this world is dedicated the essay by Juan José Pérez Preciado). It was a public that had to be impressed by the quality of the treatise even from a strictly editorial point of view (in fact, if these were Carducho’s original intentions, they turned out to be successful: in reality, as witnessed mainly by the inventories, the Diálogos in the seventeenth century had a much larger spread than the Arte de la pintura (Art of Painting) by Francisco Pacheco, as noted Marta Cacho Casal in her contribution). “It may also be argued” – Javier Portús Pérez wrote – “that this notable publishing endeavour was itself one of the instruments that served to give prestige to the art of painting, by demonstrating the extent to which the discussion on painting could engage with complex discursive structures and prestigious literary forms, such as poetry. In the context of mid-seventeenth-century Spanish publishing, the drive to integrate images, poems and prose texts in a coherent and complex discourse underlines the highly sophisticated nature of Carducho’s work” (p. 73).

Maybe, it's now time to take a step back. It was said that the treatise consists of dialogues, but its structure is actually much more complex. At the end of every dialogue, in fact, it was presented a poem, each of which was the work of particularly well-known writers at court, together with an etching (there was only one exception: there was no poem at the end of the first dialogue). Both the poem and the etching illustrated an important aspect of the topics covered in the dialogue. Portús Pérez reviews the precedents that may have induced Carducho to structure the work in this way; provided that they are not many, and that none of these reveals such complexity, the best example is probably that of the emblems literature (from Alciato onwards). And yet it should be clarified that "Carducho’s treatise is not a book of emblems, and there are several important differences between them.  The principal ones relate to the hierarchy of signifying elements and the order in which they are read. While for Alciato […] the principal point of departure is the image, which provides the basis for organising the […] textual elements, in Carducho’s case, the poems and images are restricted to the end of each dialogue, and are thus secondary to the prose. […] Images, maxims and poems almost always have some relationship with part of the content of the chapter in which they are included, but there is an enormous volume of information given in the prose that is not reflected by them. Furthermore, if the poems and prints are grouped together, in isolation from the rest of the treatise, they form an autonomous and wholly coherent discourse that does not necessarily map onto the dominant discourse articulated in the prose” (pp. 75-76).

Can we speak of something like "a pen virtuosity", as we would speak of a Baroque "brush virtuosity"? I really think so. And that virtuosity - as pointed out in several places throughout the book - is intended to demonstrate the nobility of painting, inextricably linking it to that of literature, in a combination that integrates and enriches each other.

As you see, the Diálogos were anything but a trivial or random work. They did not collect the testimonies of a nostalgic old Florentine painter who remembered the joys of youth (youth that he in fact passed in Spain, having abandoned the hometown at the age of nine years), but reread carefully, show him standing in the front row, to fight with the weapons of erudition, eloquence and decorum the battle for recognition of the nobility of his profession on the one hand and for obtaining the most prestigious artistic commissions on other one.


NOTES

[1] See in this blog: Giovanni Mazzaferro, The Spanish art treatises of the seventeenth century.

[2] Did the painters really win that court case? In fact, simply the fact that later one other court cases with the same content were discussed can raise doubts that this was really the case. For a discussion of the issue from a legal point of view, see José Manuel Cruz Valdovinos, La liberalidad de la pintura: textos y pleitos in Sacar de la sombra lumbre. La teoría de la pintura en el Siglo de Oro (1560-1724), edited by José Riello, Madrid, 2012, pp. 173-202. In general, the work published by Riello is a source of many cultural stimuli, sometimes even in contrast to some of the ideas presented in the book now being analysed, and will be reviewed in the near future.




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