A journey to the soul of Spanish painting

An art-history jest describes two prevailing types of aesthetic: German, which is alleged to be superficially deep, full of Sturm und Drang; and French, said to be deeply superficial – all about style, gaiety, and sophistication (think of the frivolous froth of Fragonard).

To coin another quip, you could say Spanish art is seriously emotional. The examples from 500 years evince common traits: passion, intensity, austerity, concentrated focus, elimination of detail, torsion of figures, religiosity that borders on fanaticism. In a word, soul.

Spain, isolated from Europe from the 17th century until the death of the dictator Francisco Franco in 1975, went its own way in art. While the rest of Europe explored neoclassicism, humanism, and rationality, Spain was deeply skeptical.

Humanity, under the iron hand of the Counter-Reformation, was seen as frail and corruptible. Spanish portraits present the individual realistically, warts and all, rather than idealized. "A paradox at the heart of Spanish painting from El Greco to Goya," Serraller says, is "that it is modern because it looks backward."

There is an affinity between old-fashioned and modern art in the juxtaposition of Velásquez's "The Needlewoman" (c. 1640-50) with Picasso's "Woman Ironing" (1904). The expressive poses and intensity of both converse across the centuries. This painting from Picasso's Blue Period owes much to El Greco's elongated, angular figures as well.

Spanish Golden Age art, in its mysticism, rejection of classicism, and naturalism, was so out of step with the rest of European art that it seemed to be a jolt of freshness to modern masters. Of course, they had to flee Spain before they could let their imaginations run riot with native traditions.

Modern Spain's futuristic bridges, opera houses, and museums by native son Santiago Calatrava coexist with red-tile-roofed stucco monasteries. Past and present constantly jostle each other, seeming to spring from entirely different roots. Yet Calatrava's bone-white airport in Bilbao brings to mind a dove's wings, a traditional Spanish motif. Similarly, displaying portraits of women spanning 500 years in the intimate alcoves of the Guggenheim drives home the formal and cultural connections of Spanish identity, along with its twists and turns.

The impeccable credentials of the exhibition's curators, who are leading scholars and connoisseurs of Spanish art, and their six-year effort organizing this show have resulted in unprecedented loans. It's a dazzling array of important works, as dense and delicious as churros and chocolate.

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