Francisco Goya, one of the most influential Spanish artists of all time, is often known for his subversive take on the art form and later on developed deeply pessimistic creations which reflected the somber realities of life.
The Auditorio of the Oscar Niemeyer International Cultural Centre, by the busy port city of Aviles en el norte de España — today becoming a site for culture and the arts — honors the father of Modernism in Goya: Ni mas ni menos (Neither more nor less) — which admired his genius, as we explored his impact as a painter and engraver, and how he has influenced future iconic artists.
Curated by Maria Toral, the exhibition notes state: “Goya expresses his opinion freely. His most important legacy is this freedom. A legacy that consecrates him as a source of inspiration and precursor of different movements, such as, for example, social realism or the purest surrealism.”
The exhibition has selected object d’art which deals with the topics of women, religion, education, and even war.
The Zaragoza stalwart was unabashedly pure in his creations in a way only he could, and his expressions of condemnation and rejection have all become a core reason why he has built a lasting legacy. But first, what’s in a name? Ni mas ni menos. It takes its name from his very own Plate 41 from the Los Caprichos series (1796-97) of 80 etchings which explored the social ills of contemporary Spanish culture.
This specific issue depicted donkeys in human roles. The grinning ass may be seen posed for a portrait by a monkey. However, we can clearly see the animal was painted in a more royal portrait than the somewhat comical donkey, despite his utter insistence to be portrayed as “neither more, nor less.”
This little caricature was a critique of the vanity and egoism of self-absorbed aristocrats. Goya was even quoted as saying, “An animal that has his picture done will not stop himself from appearing as an animal, even if he is painted with a ruff and tries to be grave.”
And so in this exposition, it zeroes in on Goya’s own creations beside the versions of 24 renowned masters of the art, including names such as cubism pioneer Pablo Picasso and surrealist Salvador Dali!
There was a section dedicated to Goya’s campaign for protofeminism, where he moves away from women as a stagnant muse and instead casts them in historical moments. While he emphasizes the realities of prostitution and misogyny, he likewise sheds light on the brave women of the era such as Agustina de Aragón — considered as the Spanish Joan of Arc — who defended Spain against the First French Empire during the Peninsular War of 1807 to 1814.
Another scene stealer were the majas, transgressive women who dressed in opulent costumes, which were later on adopted by aristocratic ladies in efforts to be noticed by Goya.
Other sketches which touched on this topic included La Tauromaquia (Bullfighting, 1814-1816), Los Desastres de la guerra (The Disasters of War, 1810-1820), and Los Disparates o Proverbios (The Follies or Proverbs, 1815-1820).
An iconic back-to-back piece was Salvador Dali’s colored recreation of Los Caprichos 72: No te escaparas (You will not escape, 1799), an image of a young woman harassed by grotesque winged creatures who represented desire, temptation, and deceit. Another was his take on Buen viaje (Bon voyage, 1799), where witches and demons flew through the evening atop a batlike monstrosity. These passengers were believed to be vices, with blurred faces to feign ignorance.
One more amazing find was Salvador Dali’s rendition of Miren que grabes! (Look how solemn they are!, 1799), with two beasts riding what seem to be donkeys, and Devota profesion (Devout profession, 1799), which depicted a man seemingly forced to read a grimoire.
The image was originally accompanied by a haunting caption which went “Will you swear to obey and respect your masters and superiors, to sweep the garrets, to spin tow, to ring bells, to howl, to yell, to fly, to cook, to grease, to suck, to back, to blow, to fry, everything whatever time you are ordered to?” “I swear.” “Well then, my girl, you are now a witch. Congratulations.”
Other double features included Goya’s Por que? (But why? 1810-1815) and Jake Chapman’s The Unwellness of Wellbeinglessness (2024), which depicted a man being gagged and bound by three officers.
Three sketches entitled Ensayos (Trials, 1799), Hilan delgado (They spin finely, 1799), and Sopla (Blow, 1799) are displayed in quick succession. The first dealt with the fine line between humans and witches and may be a subtle hint on the atrocities of the Inquisition, while the second depicted monsters sacrificing children to the devil, and the third focused on young boys exposed to the obscenities of old men.
Standalone yet Goya-influenced paintings encompassed a founder of the Abstraction-Creation movement Luis Fernández’s Cabeza grotesca (Tête grotesque) (Grotesque head, 1941), which recalled the monsters in Los Caprichos and presents a deformed head which seemed to be staring straight at the viewer.
José Gutiérrez Solana’s Estudio de la visita del obispo (Study of the bishop’s visit, 1925) spotlighted a distinguished religious figure in his study, posing for a portrait. However, perhaps unbeknownst to him, over his shoulder was a hooded figure which resembled Goya’s witch.
A curious sketch was Fernando Botero’s Mendigo (Beggar, 1998), alluded to Abu Gharib prisoners who were now begging for alms, in direct reference to Goya’s The Disasters of War.
In this eye-opening exhibit, our paseo through his prints had proven more than worthwhile, as we realized Goya’s enduring effect on even the most iconic artists of eras past and present. And to think much of the painter’s most inspirational works weren’t even paintings; they were simply sketches! Even centuries after his passing, Goya continues to be a counterculture icon through and through.